The OneShot Series
by Scorpio71
Summary: A series of Harry Potter one-shots, drabbles, vignettes and random plot ideas rolling about in my head. Each chapter is a new AU unrelated to any others. Feel free to take a chapter and develop it into a full story arc.
1. Destruction of the Last Horcrux

TITLE: The One-Shot Series

FANDOM: Harry Potter

GENRE: One-shots, vignettes, drabbles, shorts, plot ideas/bunnies, etc….

RATING: varies chapter to chapter

PAIRING: varies chapter to chapter

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A/N: Each chapter of this series is its own little AU; a short one-off to express an idea or concept that's been rolling around my head. Anyone who wants is welcome to take whichever idea catches their fancy & develop it into a full-blown story arc. Just please credit me as the inspiration. Enjoy.**

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Destruction of the Last Horcrux 

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, watched from a distance with haunted eyes as Harry Potter curled into a sun drenched corner of the room and began to chat excitedly in babbling baby-talk to a bit of scrollwork carved into the stone wall. It hurt her to see him like this; physically healthy, magically powerful and yet reduced to the mentality of a damaged child.

Oh, all wizards and witches ran the risk of insanity. It was simply par for the course when one routinely warped and altered the very fabric of reality on a daily basis in order to form the world around you more to your liking. Most, if they lived long enough, ended up the way that her late predecessor Albus Dumbledore had; a bit eccentric, a few obsessions and his own unique way of relating to various stimuli.

Harry Potter's madness, however, was far beyond wildly colored robes or collecting a myriad of magical knickknacks to display or obsessing over a particular type of sweet. The-Boy-Who-Lived had completely disassociated himself from reality, unwilling or perhaps unable to relate to and communication with his fellow humans. Even the portraits of Hogwarts who monitored his every move for Minerva were not able to reach him with their words. Instead, Harry talked to Hogwarts directly, acting as if the ancient castle was a living sentient being.

He wandered dreamily from room to room, murmuring and talking nonsense to the walls, floors, archways and scrollwork. Unlike Filch, who used a combination of magical cleaners, mops, rags and scrub brushes powered by the sweating arms and backs of children in detention; Harry cleaned and repaired every hallway, room or closet space he encountered with warm sweeping waves of gentle magic the flowed from his body continuously. The windows, suits of armor and floors had never sparkled and gleamed so brightly. Areas of the castle that had been shut down and closed off for decades due to disrepair were once again in perfect usable condition. The wards, once strained to their breaking point from attacks of dark magic, were stronger than ever and visibly glowing with vitality from the raw magical power that Harry continuously fed into them.

Sighing softly, she watched him as he reached out with one hand and petted the rough stone wall. He crooned a gentle murmur of sound and without benefit of a wand or speaking an incantation transfigured all of the plain clear glass windows into beautiful detailed stained-glass pictures depicting scenes from the lives of all four founders. While Minerva was long since used to Harry's incredible displays of immense power, it was times like these when she couldn't help but wonder if Hogwarts didn't actually speak back to him. How else would he have been able to create such images from Hogwarts' history?

In any event, that wasn't what pulled her from her office and sent her looking for him. Once again the wizarding world was faced with a new Minister for Magic being voted into office and once again, Minerva had to petition to keep Harry in her care as her ward. As it was, Harry was dosed with a calming potion once, sometimes twice a day and allowed to simply wander the school. He never bothered any of the staff or students since it was doubted that he even recognized them as existing and he rarely left the castle proper. If he did, it was only to visit the courtyards, greenhouses or the Quidditch Pitch. He never ventured beyond the wards, even into the Forbidden Forest.

Minerva could only hope that the new Minister for Magic didn't plan to make a big splash in the papers by forcibly removing Harry from Hogwarts to St. Mongo's for 'treatment'. The last time that had happened, Harry went berserk the moment he was portkeyed away. Countless people had been injured, thousands of Galleons worth of damage had been done, the wards of St. Mongo's had been completely torn down and Harry had disappeared without a trace for three months. When he was finally found hiding in Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets it had taken another year and a half to coax him back out again. Even then he had been jumpy and twitchy, his magic on the defensive.

That's when she had started feeding him the calming potions. Harry was simply far too powerful magically and far too disassociated with reality to allow for any sort of temper-tantrum. His magic could easily level all of London and he wouldn't even realize it.

Several people from the Ministry had suggested over the intervening years that she should simply replace his calming potion with a poison and let him die. That it would be safer than allowing a madman to roam about while possessing more magical power than anyone since Merlin himself. Minerva harshly denounced such ideas, and would have even if she hadn't believed that Harry's magic would recognize & combat any poison made. There were perhaps some moments when she felt that it would have been better had he not survived his battle with the Dark Lord Voldemort, but she wouldn't ever condone killing him in cold blood.

No, Harry was quite safe and very happy if just left to wander the corridors of Hogwarts castle, communing with the only home he'd ever acknowledged. In fact, knowing that she was due to retire within the next few years, she had begun working up a proposal to the Board of Governors to allow Harry complete access to Hogwarts for as long as he lived.

She could only hope that they would grant this most unusual request if for no other reason than because it was becoming patently obvious to all that Harry Potter was not aging. This extra added bit of horror wasn't really a surprise when she thought about it. The Dark Lord had been obsessed with immortality and had eagerly sacrificed his very soul in order to accomplish that deed. He had systematically fractured his soul into seven parts and then locked them inside of various objects. With his foul horcruxes in place, he was unkillable. His attack against the Potters back in 1981 changed everything. By casting the killing curse upon the child of prophesy he had destroyed his own body and cast his black spirit into a sort of purgatory; damning himself to roam the Earth without rest or peace. Unfortunately, his magic wasn't destroyed along with his body.

What no one realized until the final duel between Voldemort and Harry was that the Dark Lord, in that moment of destiny years earlier, had accidentally sundered his soul once again and created out of the infant child a final horcrux, a separate living being with a bit of Voldemort's twisted soul magically fused to the baby's very mind and magical core. If only they had known or even suspected what the truth of Harry's link to the Dark Lord really was then this all could possibly have been prevented. But they hadn't known and Harry had marched into battle with the Dark Lord and killed him.

For a brief moment, a mere blink of the eye, everyone had been filled with a profound mix of both shock and relief. Then the true horror began as Harry suddenly flailed back with a cry of wrenching pain, his scar split open and spilling blood down his face in rivers. He had collapsed to the ground, screaming and thrashing while his magic pulsed and writhed through the air. Everything that Voldemort currently was and had been attacked Harry's mind in one last desperate attempt to recombine with his single remaining horcrux; Harry's own mind & magic.

No one had known what to do, how to help. Mind healers and soul healers were called in panic. Legilmencers and various mind-arts specialists were quickly consulted. Some said to stupefy him to prevent the Dark Lord from possessing him. Others warned that if they did, it would only clear the way for Harry's personality to be ousted faster. Arguments ripped back and forth on what would be the best path to take.

In the end it was Harry himself who finally destroyed the Dark Lord's last horcrux. Through sheer bloody-minded desperation the young man had literally torn his own mind asunder by ripping the Dark Lord's foul and twisted soul out of himself and then used raw magic to banish it to the neither-realms. By the time the dust was settled and all was said and done, the Dark Lord's soul was utterly destroyed and his magic was residing inside of Harry's magical core, mingling and merging with his own. Unfortunately, Harry's mind and sanity were shredded in the process.

And now a madman walked about with twice the magical power of the Dark Lord, his only friend and confidant an ancient castle deep in the heart of magical Scotland.


	2. The Journal of Harry Potter

The Journal of Harry Potter

**Friday, June 6, 1997**

**6:00 PM**

# of Chocolate Frogs eaten – 5 _(got Agrippa. must remember to brag to Ron)_

# of Bertie Botts Beans eaten – unknown _(v.v. bad. stomach ache worse)_

# of fights with friends – 4 _(Ron is being huge prat)_

Not really sure how to do this journal thing. Not really sure if I'll keep bothering to write in it. Hermione's idea, really. She prattled on and on about how it's not good to "bottle things up inside" & that it would "be for the best" if I just sat down and told someone – anyone really – about all of the stuff swirling around inside my head. There was also some vague reference to her Aunt Veronica blowing up a pressure cooker one holiday while trying to prepare a special dinner, but I'm not really sure that it was relevant to our rather one sided conversation.

I admit that I made a few pointed _(& not very polite)_ arguments about not blabbering secrets to people with unshielded minds in front of who knows which portraits, ghosts or evil house elves. After being admonished not to be a rude prat _(me?)_, Hermione thrust a book in my hand, tapped it with her wand & flipped it open to a seemingly random page. It was a journal. That particular page detailed two days during our Fourth Year at Hogwarts. In it, Hermione proclaimed Ron to be a prat _(which he is)_, Draco Malfoy to be an inbred snot _(which he is)_, & myself to be hopeless at research _(which, unfortunately, I am)_. There was also an entry in her journal which told about her own research into the golden dragon egg & what the 2nd task of the Triwizard Tournament would be.

Before I could read further, Hermione took back her own journal, closed & locked it with a spell & then smirked. Smirked! Point made, she thrust a different book into my hands, told me to tell _**it**_ my secrets & then use magic to keep it secure.

Busy-body witch.

**11:30 PM**

# of Charms cast – 4

# of Hexes cast – 7

# of Curses cast – 2

# of Fights with friends – 1 _(Ron is still being huge prat)_

This journal is now sealed with 4 charms, 4 hexes and has 2 curses on it for anyone who makes it past the charms & hexes. Other 3 hexes mentioned above were cast at Ron. Hope he enjoys the extra nose in the middle of his forehead, the bloody nuisance.

Several people have gone out of their way to try & apologize for Ron. I get it, I do. He's angry & sullen & feeling betrayed. He's feeling helpless & useless & angry. He wants to hex every Slytherin he sees & chafes at not being allowed to just blast the slimy gits where they stand. I get it. I feel the same way.

I'm also sure that those same people have made it a point to apologize to Ron for my behavior & to explain why I'm being a right git. I know that we'll both eventually calm down, stop taking our anger out on each other & make life hell for those that have truly cheesed us off.

Merlin have mercy on the Slytherins then, 'cause they'll not find any from Ron or me.

I guess we're both just too much alike. Angry & viscous. Vengeful.

**Saturday, June 7, 1997**

**8:45 AM**

# of Hexes hurled at Slytherins – lost count _(v. good. therapy at its finest)_

Amount of breakfast eaten – ½ piece of toast _(appetite slowly returning)_

# of Bertie Botts Beans eaten – 3 handfuls_ (big sugar craving still here)_

Tomorrow will be one week since Dumbledore's funeral. In two days, classes will resume & the 7th years will take their NEWTS, the 5th years will take their OWLS & the rest of us will revise for our end of year exams.

It seems unreal that life is just going on like the whole world didn't just turn inside out & upside down just a short time ago. I look up to the Head Table & see McGonagall in Dumbledore's chair & I want to scream in denial. Not that McGonagall won't do a bang-up job of it, 'cause she will. It's just _**wrong **_to see her there.

I can't even so much as glance at the empty chair left at the Head Table by that bloody traitor Snape or the empty space left behind at the Slytherin Table by the Evil Ferret. Last time I did, my hearing went all wonky & filled with echoes, my vision dimmed to red & my heartbeat thundered through me like a tidal wave. I woke up in the infirmary with Pomfrey fussing only to find out that I'd jumped up & started screaming curses & hexes at the Slytherins. Sent 8 of them to the infirmary. It took the entire remaining staff to contain me & I had all of Gryffindor & Hufflepuff shouting encouragement at me.

Wish I could remember it better.

**1:20 PM**

# of Laps around Q-Pitch – 104 _(v. good to fly without bludgers attacking)_

# of Bertie Botts Beans eaten – 3 handfuls _(v. bad-not same 3 handfuls as breakfast-total of 6 handfuls and its not even dinner yet)_

Very tired & relaxed. Managed to fly my broom until the sugar jitters disappeared. Being on my broom is the second best way to release tension. Cursing Slytherins into a pile of moaning green & silver goo is still my favorite. Then again, watching Ginny cast the Bat-Bogey jinx on Colin and then hexing his own camera to chase him around the common room while taking pictures is kinda fun too. I bet he never spills ink all over her transfiguration notes again.

A hot shower pounding onto over worked muscles followed by a comfortable chair in front of crackling fire should be mandatory to all crabby bastards. I feel like I could actually sleep.

Will trim broomstick twigs tomorrow. Nap now.

**8:00 PM**

# of Chocolate Frogs eaten – 14 _(v. bad-especially since candy stash comes from bunch of 1__st__ & 2__nd__ years trying to appease my temper)_

# of Bertie Botts Beans eaten – 1 handful _(sent Hedwig to Hogsmeade for more)_

# of Hexes hurled at Slytherins – 11 _(v.v. good-Goyle will feel that one for awhile)_

# of times Hexed – 3 _(v. bad-still itch in places not scratchable in public)_

# of friendships fixed – 1 _(Ron less of a prat, excellent aim with stinging hex)_

Dinner tonight was not the greatest I ever had. Still have trouble eating anything not candy, much to Hermione's frustration. Over pudding I suffered through v. uncomfortable conversation about Moody & Shacklebolt taking over leadership of the Order. I respect & admire both men, but neither are Dumbledore. All of us are glad they refuse to use 12 Grimmauld as HQ. Got a cold shoulder from Ron entire time. Prat.

After dinner battle with the slimy Slytherins cheered everyone up immensely. Parkinson should have known better than to insult Dumbledore's memory, however, she looks much better with tentacles growing out of her face. Must remember to have Hermione teach me that spell.

Ron & I dropped our disagreement with barely a glance & hexed Slytherins side by side until McGonagall & Sprout broke it up. Pity, that was a nice little dust up & it felt good to see Goyle's ears expand to the size of a small house-elf's. When Ron's stinging hex sent Parkinson arse over teakettle I wanted to do a quick dance of glee.

Really, Pansy. Wearing purple lace knickers with green sparkles? Only the Evil Ferret would find that appealing.

**11:45 PM**

# of Chocolate Frogs eaten – 2 _(got a Dumbledore card & nearly cried)_

# of Pumpkin Pasties eaten – 1 _(ta Dean)_

# of Canary Crèmes eaten – 1 _(that'll teach me to look before I shove something in my mouth-ickle firsties enjoyed it though) _

I spent most of evening playing wizarding chess with Ron while retelling battle with Slytherins to 1st & 2nd year Gryffs. I made sure to emphasize Ron & Hermione's contributions. They are both now heroes in eyes of the younger crowd. Apologized profusely to Nev for starting fight when he & Luna were not there to help.

Hermione promised to teach all of us the hex she used on Parkinson tomorrow during our revision study time. _(v.v. good)_ I plan on hitting Malfoy with it the first time I see him again. A few spotted tentacles growing out of his face could only improve his looks after all.

**Sunday, June 8, 2006**

**10:00 AM**

# of Treacle Fudge eaten – 8 _(v. bad-but not up to Ron's standard)_

# of Bertie Botts Beans eaten – unknown _(v.v. bad-started downing them by the mouthful instead of one at a time)_

This is turning out to be a hugely bad day & it's not even lunch yet. It's exactly one week since Dumbledore's funeral & I think we're all feeling more than a little glum. Not even Hermione showing us all how to cast the tentacle-face hex cheered us up for very long. She wants us to work on revision for the end of year tests that start tomorrow. I can't feel as if it's all terribly important considering everything that's happened, but it'll probably help to think on other things.

**10:00 PM**

# of Cauldron Cakes eaten – 5 _(Dean broke open an entire stash)_

# of Licorice Wands eaten – 16 _(from care package from Nev's Gran)_

# of Bertie Botts Beans – entire bag full

# of Stomach Ache Potions – 1 _(v. bad: tastes gross – lecture from Pomfrey worse)_

I was right. Today was worse than being forced to dance with a Troll. Think I'll go fly around the Q-Pitch for a while & just stop thinking about, well, everything.

**Monday, June 9, 1997**

**11:30 PM**

Candy – 0 _(someone stole my stash of hidden Bertie Botts Beans-suspect Pomfrey)_

Hermione has started her annual frenzy of study, worry, nagging & subsequently getting top marks. Although for once Ginny is far worse than her. Of course, every 5th year is a bit tense during OWLS so I'll forgive her for the Bat-Bogey Hex. This time.

_Random thoughts on the traitor:_ While revising for the Charms end-of-year, I came across a charm for peeling fruit out of its skin. Spent 20 minutes imagining using this charm on Snape until Hermione nagged me to get back to work.

**Thursday, June 10, 1997**

**9:30 PM**

# of Chocolate Frogs eaten – 2 _(better)_

# of Bertie Botts Beans eaten – 0 _(still haven't found a way to keep them – they keep disappearing no matter where I hide them – suspect Pomfrey & McG conspiracy)_

Sorry it's been a while. While not as bad as the OWLs were, for several reasons up to and including the Dark Arse, it's still no picnic to take year end exams. Hermione and Neville are heading for mental breakdown city. Ginny is leading the way. Ron & Seamus think that we should get some firewhiskey or some golden brandy & get everyone roaring drunk this weekend. While I'm sure that we _(6__th__ years)_ could use a good twist around the bend, I'm not certain that it's at all a good idea to get Ginny pissed anywhere near me. She's still not that happy with me for breaking up with her, even if she says she understands my reasons.

I sent Hedwig off yesterday with a letter to Moody. Everyone knows that I don't want to come back here next year to finish out my schooling. Most think that it's because I can't stand the thought of being here with Dumbledore dead. I admit that's part of it, but mostly it's because I'm not learning what I need to in order to kill off the Dark Arse. I tried to explain that to Moody without actually going into the details of the Prophecy. I don't know if he already knows & I'll tell him if he doesn't. It's more that I didn't want anyone else to find out if they intercepted Hedwig.

He hasn't replied yet, so I'm not sure if that means he's thinking about it or if he's not even considering it. Like I told him in my letter, I can't be protected from destiny so I might as well get prepared to face it. Sadly, the current 7th year curriculum at Hogwarts will not prepare me to challenge & defeat the Dark Arse. Even if he isn't willing to apprentice me himself, maybe he knows someone who would. Or even a school that has a more aggressive Defense oriented curriculum.

Well, hopefully I'll hear something from him soon.


	3. An Account of Lavender Brown

**Being an Account of how Lavender Brown led the **

**Resistance of Diagon Alley against the Death Eater's Attack**

_(or why never to anger a witch)_

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With a sigh of minor annoyance, Lavender stepped away from the Floo connection in the Leaky Cauldron's main room and pulled out her wand. Bopping herself lightly on the top of her head and muttering a quick cleaning charm, all of the dust, soot and extra floo powder lifted up off of her on a wave of magic and floated over to the fireplace where it rained down on top of the next unfortunate traveler. She ignored his glare and turned away, walking to the connection to Diagon Alley proper. Lavender was incredibly grateful to be able to do magic now that she'd passed her OWL's. It made traveling by floo so much cleaner.

In truth, she loved being able to do any magic outside of school. Unlike her best friend Parvati and the various members of the Weasley family, she didn't have access to dozens and dozens of wands that had been owned by numerous ancestors. She only had one wand and until her grades had been registered for her OWL's, that wand had been monitored by the Ministry for underage use.

Now that she wasn't restricted from casting spells, her summer apprenticeship with Madam Malkin was getting much more interesting. She was learning so much; fabric transfiguration, cutting hexes, sewing charms, sizing charms, fabric heating & cooling hexes. Lavender was thrilled with her summer so far and couldn't wait to get into work every day.

And to think that she had been jealous of Parvati getting a summer internship at Witch Weekly Magazine. All Parvati was doing all day long was research in the archives for the real journalists that wanted to double-check their historical facts. Dead boring if you asked Lavender.

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Shopkeepers Fight Back

_By Lydia Lynchwood, Witch Weekly_

_**A little more than a handful of Death Eaters portkeyed into Diagon Alley yesterday morning and began tossing hexes and curses around at the crowd of innocent shoppers. While most of the people visiting the Merchant Quarter of the Wizarding World ran screaming from these vile criminals one young woman, only days after receiving her OWL's, made a stand. Rallying the other witches and wizards around her to stand up and be counted, to defend their lives, their shops and their freedom, Hogwarts student and apprentice seamstress Lavender Brown led the way by example. Standing outside of Madam Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion, Miss Brown hurled hexes and curses right back at the foul miscreants.**_

_**What started as a cruel and horrifying attack by Death Eaters turned into a rout as those terrorists left standing finally fled the scene. Aurors arrived just in time to arrest the Death Eaters already taken down by the shopkeepers and clerks. Several shopkeepers have suggested forming a 'Community Watch' group to patrol for further trouble, while others would like to create an 'Emergency Plan of Action' that could be put into effect if another Death Eater attack occurs. The Emergency Plan of Action, or EPA, would cut down on panic and wasted effort while allowing shopkeepers to help their customers evacuate the area while providing magical shielding and return hexes.**_

_**At this point, we here at Witch Weekly are glad that someone is taking a stand against the servants of You-Know-Who since it is painfully obvious that Minister Fudge is ineffective when not following the instructions of convicted Death Eater and former Ministerial Advisor Lucius Malfoy.**_

_Personal Biography & Daily Grooming Rituals of Lavender Brown – Page 2_

_Win a Date with Lavender for your favorite young Wizard – Page 3_

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Reaching the dingy alley behind the Leaky, Lavender tapped the bricks with her wand and waited for the guardian portal to open up for her. She rolled her eyes impatiently and tried not to touch any of the refuse strewn about. Someone should really suggest to Tom that he clean up back here once in a while.

Finally the portal finished shifting bricks out of her way and she was able to walk through into Diagon Alley proper. The hustle and bustle of the mid-morning crowd cheered her right back up again and she couldn't help but smile brightly.

Winding her way through the ever moving masses of people, she called out cheerful hellos and good mornings to the various shopkeepers and clerks that she knew. Shifting around one extremely tall wizard, a flash of bright color caught her eye. Turning to look, Lavender could only gape at the gaudy orange robes trimmed in six inch lime green lace. Really! What was that woman thinking? Lavender was sure she would just die of embarrassment if forced to wear such ugly robes in public.

Maybe if she'd been paying attention to where she was walking instead of staring in horror at the crime against fashion standing across the street then events might have turned out differently. But she wasn't watching where she was going so it came to pass that Lavender Brown ended up walking into the back of a man that had literally just portkeyed into Diagon Alley directly in front of her.

The man stumbled and they both nearly fell before he caught himself. Then, with a snarl of indignant rage he whirled around and shoved her hard. "Mind your betters, mudblood filth!" And then he raised his wand to her.

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PROTECT YOUR FAMILY & HOME

_**The Wardcrafter Guild of London has generously donated their time and services toward strengthening and adding to the existing wards at the home of Lavender Brown, the brave Heroine of Diagon Alley.**_

_**Yesterday, Lavender Brown defeated an elite squad of Death Eaters sent by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in an attempt to burn Diagon Alley to the ground. A valiant protector of the Light, Miss Brown understands the value and necessity of strong wards and only wants the very best; Wardcrafter Guild Wards. **_

_**Don't you and your family deserve them as well?**_

_**Floo or Owl us at Wardcrafter Guild Hall to make an appointment with a Wardcrafting Specialist today.**_

_Advertisement paid for by the Wardcrafter Guild of London_

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Letting out a shriek of fear and confusion, Lavender tried to process what was happening to her. One minute she was walking to Madam Malkin's and looking forward to several hours of casting spells on the robes being created in expectation of the annual 'Hogwarts Student Buying Frenzy' and the next a man wearing a bone white mask twisted into a permanent scowl had shoved her away and began yelling at her.

For a horrifying moment her mind had recoiled in terror at the sight before her. Death Eaters! In Diagon Alley! And then she had processed what he had called her. Mudblood!? A horrible and ugly word if she ever heard one. Both of her parents were magical, but they were also both muggleborn. She was only a 2nd generation witch, and in the eyes of bigoted blood-supremacists that was nearly as bad.

It was only then that she registered the wand pointed directly at her head. Months of being drilled endlessly by Harry Potter insured that she was waving her wand in a quick circular motion before she even blinked. "PROTEGO!" The Death Eater's magic splashed against her shield without hitting her, but the power behind it was strong enough to knock her off of her feet. With a gasp, Lavender went flying backwards nearly four feet only to land in a puddle of dripping goopy mud.

With a soft cry of mixed horror and disgust, Lavender looked down at her ruined robes that were absolutely soaked with only Merlin knows what kind of gross goo. It was thick and dark and cold and it stank strongly. It was in her shoes, coating her second best work robes, all over her hands and wand, and it was even splashed up onto her face and in her hair. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears on the spot.

That's when she heard the laughter. Looking up, Lavender spotted the Death Eater that had fired the curse at her pointing at her with one hand while his wand arm was wrapped around his stomach. His was practically doubled over with mirth and was cackling like a hyena.

"Oh! Look at the filthy little mudblood sitting in a puddle!" He cackled some more. "Now you actually look like what you really are; a filthy dirty mudblood!"

Okay. Forget crying. Now, Lavender was mad.

_**

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Ministry Incompetence & Corruption verses Protégé of The-Boy-Who-Lived 

_Quibbler expose by L. Lovegood_

_**Once again the Ministry's failure to prepare itself against the foul hordes of You-Know-Who makes itself glaringly obvious. Thankfully, Lavender Brown, Hogwarts student of Gryffindor House and one of several protégés being trained personally by The-Boy-Who-Lived was on hand to deal with the Death Eaters.**_

_**For years, Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore has been warning the Ministry of Magic that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not truly dead, but instead an incorporeal wraith formed of the vilest of Dark Magic. He tried in vain to warn Minister Fudge that You-Know-Who was working towards restoring his physical body and reclaiming his power. Minister Fudge preferred to take the counsel and Galleons of pardoned Death Eater Lucius Malfoy instead.**_

_**Last year at the conclusion of the third task of the TriWizard Tournament, Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived, escaped from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named after witnessing the horrifying ritual used to return the foul wraith to his body and power, bringing with him the corpse of Cedric Diggory. Cedric, also a TriWizard Champion, was the first victim of the Dark Lord's second Reign of Terror. It was at this point, that Harry Potter warned us all that You-Know-Who had finally returned.**_

_**Instead of immediately channeling funding towards increased Auror training, extra security wards and defensive remedial tutorials for the wizarding citizenry, Minister Fudge once again ignored the wise advice of Albus Dumbledore and helped to further the cause of Death Eater's everywhere. Fudge ordered the Dementor's Kiss be given to the one captive Death Eater on hand before he could be questioned under Veritaserum and then refused to acknowledge the return of the Dark Lord. Not satisfied at covering up the actions of the foul Death Eaters, the Minister then began a media campaign designed to destroy the public's faith in The-Boy-Who-Lived.**_

_**Minister Fudge's next move in the war against the Light was to send Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge to Hogwarts in an effort to undermine Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's authority and to ensure a generation of students would be unable to defend themselves from the Death Eaters. Madam Umbridge refused to teach her students any magical spells what-so-ever, despite her Ministry appointment as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Apparently, she and Minister Fudge would like all of our children to be helpless against Dark Magic.**_

_**Thankfully, Harry Potter is not afraid to stand up against corruption and greed. He formed an illegal study group and invited his closest friends and allies to practice practical defensive spells. Lavender Brown was one such student. She used skills learned from The-Boy-Who-Lived to defend Diagon Alley from the Death Eaters just as several other students used those same skills to defend the Ministry itself only a few short weeks ago.**_

_**Here at the Quibbler, we think that it's time for the adults of the wizarding community to stop running away from the Dark and start defending the Light instead. You won't always be able to count on a child to save you.**_

_Rotfangs & Heliotropes: the Conspiracy Continues – Page 2_

_Snorkack sightings in Norway! – Page 3_

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With a grunt, Lavender pushed herself up out of the puddle and gave her robes a quick hard flick to get the worst clumps of mud to fall off. It's to her credit that she didn't even consider using the cleaning charm that she had earlier after stepping out of the floo. Instead, she pointed her wand at the laughing Death Eater and growled the first thing to enter her mind; the fabric transfiguration spell.

A soft whisper of shifting fabric heralded the end of the laughter as the one sleeve of the Death Eater's robe melded into the main swaths of fabric covering his torso, trapping his wand arm tightly to his chest. She smirked at him as he stared at her dumbfounded.

"For Harry Potter and the Light!"

Her battle cry ringing out loudly over the sounds of crying and fleeing wizards and witches, Lavender pointed her wand back at the Death Eater and yelled out, "EXPELLIARMUS!" All around her, people's heads swiveled in her direction just in time to see the Death Eater's wand come sailing into her outstretched hand and the Death Eater himself to go flying back into the crowd.

Still angrier over her ruined robes than anything else, Lavender stalked after him. Once again she pointed her wand at her opponent and once more she cast a spell.

"STUPIFY!"

_**

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**_

QUIDDITCH QUARTERLY SPECIAL ADDITION

_Wally Waterford Exclusive Interview by Darien Daymond_

_**Wally Waterford, former beater for the Wigtown Wanderers who retired after many years of play, is a current employee of Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. A normal work day for Mr. Waterford consists of charming the company produced amateur grade Bludgers and Snitches between assisting customers and chatting with his long-time fans. Unfortunately, yesterday was not a normal day because yesterday Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley in force. Special reporter Darien Daymond was lucky enough to get this exclusive interview with Mr. Waterford.**_

"_**Well", Wally said with a charming smile while holding up a tiny golden ball with fluttering wings, "I had just finished up the spells on this here practice snitch and was getting ready to wrap it up for sale when I heard a lot of screaming coming from outside the shop. I wasn't sure what to make of it when a woman with two young boys rushed in yelling about dozens of Death Eaters popping up out of thin air. I had heard rumors that You-Know-Who was back, but the papers kept denying it. I didn't know what to think. So, I looked out the store front window and there they were, plain as day and twice as ugly."**_

_**Mr. Waterford then told me how he urged the woman to take her children into the back workroom and use the floo to go to the Ministry and inform the Aurors while he rushed to the front door. He admitted that he hadn't planned to get involved in any duels with the Death Eaters, instead he had simply wanted to try and encourage as many innocents as he could to come into Quality Quidditch Supplies to use the private floo there so they and their families could escape to safety.**_

"_**It was Madam Malkin's new apprentice [Miss Lavender Brown that inspired me." admits former Wigtown Wanderer star beater Wally Waterford. "When I went to the door to see if anyone else was looking for shelter I heard her [Brown scream out 'For Harry Potter and the Light!' and then she cursed a Death Eater halfway across the alley. I knew then what I had to do."**_

_**What Wally Waterford did was grab his own personal broom, a professional grade beater bat and bludger and then fly out over the rushing crowds of fleeing wizards and witches. He then proceeded to prove that retirement from the professional Quidditch League hasn't hurt his amazing aim or the strength of his arm. Mr. Waterford is credited with the capture of two Death Eaters, both of which he knocked unconscious with a bludger to the head, proving once and for all that Wally Waterford is a hero both on and off the pitch.**_

_Biography & History of two Death Eaters; Avery & Appletree – Pages 2 & 3_

_Expose of a Heroine: the story of Lavender Brown – Page 4_

_Recaps of the World Cup Disaster – Pages 5 & 6_

_Defensive & Offensive Flying: Practice Drills – Page 7_

* * *

Lavender stood there for a brief moment grinning in triumph over her downed foe. That would teach him to dump a witch onto her arse in a mudpuddle. Of course, as her indignant anger slowly receded, she became aware of her surroundings again. The alley was oddly silent and it seemed as if every person there was staring at her, shocked at her audacity. It was actually quite embarrassing considering that she was splattered head to toe in muck and filth.

Then suddenly, a loud male voice whooped in delight and yelled, "You tell 'em girl! Let's get 'em for The-Boy-Who-Lived!" and then the aging Quidditch player from Quality Quidditch Supplies soared out of his store on an older model broom and slammed his beater bat against a bludger. The bludger made a whining noise as it soared through the air that was quickly followed by a loud clang as it bounced off of a Death Eater mask across the way. The Death Eater dropped to the ground instantly. The crowd let loose with one huge cheer and then chaos descended as everyone tried to curse, hex or jinx the Death Eater nearest to them.

Ignoring the swirling rush of people and ducking a stray spell or two, Lavender looked down and considered her own personal Death Eater. She remembered how she and Parvati had sat up late into the night many times with Hermione and Ginny after their misadventure at the Ministry. The two girls had told them everything that they could, describing in frightening detail about the fight as well as the fear and terror that came from Stupifying a Death Eater only to have another one come around and Ennervate him.

Lavender didn't want anyone to come along and wake her Death Eater up so that he could rejoin the fight. She figured that a body-bind or something would prevent that, but she couldn't remember the spell. She knew it. She had used it. But her panic from earlier was coming back and she couldn't think. It was something like Peterfus Totalis, or something. She needed to do something however.

Frowning, Lavender pointed her wand at the Death Eater again and cast the fabric transfiguration spell. First she changed the shape of his robes so that both of his arms were bound tightly to his body and his legs were wrapped in winding strips of fabric from hip to ankle. Then, after taking a deep breath and running Professor McGonagall's lessons through her mind one final time, she transfigured the thick wool of his robes into shiny steel.

Smirking, Lavender turned away and walked off with the Death Eater's wand. "Let's see him get out of that!" Grinning, she lifted her wand up and gently bopped herself on top of her own head and whispered the simple cleaning charm that she had used to start her day. Lavender loved being able to use magic out of Hogwarts now that she'd passed her OWL's. It made battling evil minions so much cleaner.

_**

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FAITHLESS SEDUCTRESS INCITES RIOT!

_By Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Reporter_

_**Recent rumors have linked apprentice seamstress Lavender Brown with Gryffindor heartthrob Harry Potter. Sources close to the couple have mentioned how the smitten Boy-Who-Lived has been seen giving 'private defense lessons' to the blonde seductress. What my rabid readers really want to know is if the far more experienced Miss Brown has been faithful to Mr. Potter, the brave orphan who has already had his heart broken once by the scandalous muggleborn, Hermione Granger. We here at the Daily Prophet can only wonder at Miss Brown's true interest in Mr. Potter since she was clearly seen inciting riots in Diagon Alley yesterday with her coconspirator, retired Wigtown Wanderers beater Wally Waterford. Numerous people were injured and several shops were damaged. Aurors were forced to deal with the situation. All I have to say is look out Harry; you might have some competition on your hands for Lavender's fickle love.**_

* * *


	4. The Evans Heritage 1

**The Evans Heritage: Part One**

_Petunia's Dilemma_

* * *

Petunia Evans Dursley sat quietly in her perfectly normal chair situated in the living room of her perfectly normal house which was located at the very center of her perfectly normal neighborhood. She was gazing across the room at the perfectly normal portable crib which held the sleeping form of her completely abnormal nephew Harry Potter. Young Harry, an orphan at only 15 months of age, was a wizard. That, of course, was the crux of Petunia's dilemma.

Petunia came from a family that had a long and infamous history that everyone in the wizarding world believed to have sunken into ruin and it's members killed. Muggle society never even realized they existed at all. She would do anything to ensure it stayed that way, because if anyone found out the truth about her heritage…. Well, that just didn't bare thinking about.

The world wasn't ready to learn what had really happened to the Ancient & Noble House of Ivanov, nor was she ready to allow anyone to discover the fate of her father and grandfather. It was bad enough that she knew truth of the Ivanov family and the legacy of those who called themselves 'Evans' and she had hoped that the truth would die with her. Little Harry Potter being left on her doorstep like a newspaper changed everything and made her life twice as dangerous.

Nerves stretched taunt, Petunia stood up and walked out of the living room into the hall at the base of the stairs. She gazed up them with her head tilted as she strained to hear any sound that might be coming from the second floor. Her own sweet little Dudley was upstairs sleeping in his crib and she had to be on the alert for any sign that he was waking. Although, to be perfectly honest, she hoped that for once he napped for longer than an hour since she really did need the time to try and calm her swirling thoughts.

When nothing but the ticking of the clock and the gentle sounds of Harry's breathing reached her sensitive ears, Petunia walked away from the stairs and into the kitchen. Quickly filling the kettle with water and putting it on the stove to heat, she went about gathering the things she would need for a cup of tea. Hopefully it would soothe her and allow her thoughts to drift back to the present instead of whirling madly with memories from the past.

It was, perhaps, her own fault since she had tried for years to ignore Lily and to deny anything that had to do with her. She had nearly had herself convinced that she was just a normal person from a normal family. The only real contact she had with her distant relatives was through her now deceased parents. Their death had left her more than a little cut off and only Edward seemed to keep in touch with her, though rarely.

Truthfully, she preferred it that way. Even Vernon only knew of the existence of Lily, everyone else was a secret Petunia wasn't willing to share. And if she'd had her way, she wouldn't have knowledge of them either. Pain, anger, resentment and fear did that to a person.

The whistle of the kettle startled her and she flinched briefly before snatching it off of the stove. Trying to still her shaking hand, Petunia quickly poured her tea and set the metal tea ball into the pot so that it could properly steep. Once that was done, she made sure everything was arranged on the tray and carried it back out to the living room. She fussed for a few minutes getting everything in place before sitting back down on her chair and pouring herself a cup. Then, holding the warmth of it between her chilled hands, she went back to staring at her nephew, lost in thoughts of the past once more.

She had been far too young herself to really understand the truth when her older brother Edward had gone off to boarding school somewhere in Eastern Europe. All she knew was that her beloved brother came home each summer a little more distant and a little bit harsher. His spoken English had never been very good and he spoke it only broken up with a mix of German and Russian. Petunia had taken lessons in both languages as a young girl just so she could talk to him when he visited from school.

She remembered how he announced at his 15th birthday party that he no longer wanted to use the name Evans, but instead to use the family's real name: Ivanov. She remembered how that simple statement had filled her mother with a mix of pride & terror. At the time, his reasons for doing so hadn't been explained to her and she was admonished to tell none of her friends. She had agreed without understanding why it had to be that way, but it was her first indication that she and her family were not exactly what they pretended to be.

It wasn't until her younger sister Lily had received her invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardy that the entire story had come out. Neither she nor Lily had been spared any of the grizzly details, although Lily really had been too little and naive to comprehend the scope of what their parents were confessing.

Finished her tea, Petunia put it down. The rattle of tea cup against saucer betrayed just how disturbed and upset she truly was. No longer able to sit and merely stare that the reason for the tides of fear and despair that were washing over her, Petunia stood up and turned away from Harry. Walking over to the front window, she gently pushed aside the lacy curtains and looked out over the sleepy residential village of Little Whining, a small speck of humanity in the middle of Surrey that, but for certain events, would never have existed at all. It was to her eternal shame that it was only because of her family's greatest enemy that she was able to live here. If her own family had had its way, this peaceful suburban area would most likely be a… a… well, her imagination couldn't even begin to fill in the horror that might-have-been.

Her father was Gregory Evans and her mother was Valerie Evans. Her father's parents were Michael Evans and Kate Evans. At least, that was what everyone believed. It was what she had told Vernon and what she allowed the neighbors to believe. It was also what Lily had told to her teachers and friends when she went to Hogwarts. It was what she was expected to tell her sweet Dudley and her nephew Harry.

The truth was that her parents and grandparents were magical; witches and wizards living under a curse in payment for their crimes against humanity. They had escaped from Nurmengard Prison, assumed false names and were living in hiding amongst the non-magical muggles of England.

The truth was that her father Gregory Evans was really the Dark Wizard Grigori Ivanov and her mother was Valencia Ivanova nee' Krum. Her grandfather Michael Evans' real name was Mikhail Ivanov and he had been a high ranking member of the infamous Black Guard. Her grandmother Kate Evans was really Katerina Ivanova nee' Grindelwald, sister to the famed mass murderer who was believed to be the true power behind Hitler and the Third Reich.

That was the reality of the Evans family. That was the truth she had spent her entire life hiding from the people and friends that surrounded her. That was the truth she tried so hard to deny to herself. It was her shame.

Emotions of anger and fear and long repressed horror swirled up from deep inside to nearly strangle her. Letting the curtain drop back into place, Petunia pivoted away from the window only to have her gaze fall upon the sleeping form of her infant nephew. For a brief irrational moment all of her anger and hate found a convenient and helpless target and she wanted to just pick him up and shake him hard. This was his fault! If he hadn't come here than she wouldn't have to think about any of her twisted family's horrifying past. She wouldn't be drowning in fear that the neighbor's would find out the truth about her. That Lily's friends; whom her sister abandoned the family for, would track her down and… do things to her.

The normally quiet voice of logic that lived in the back of her mind whispered to her that it wasn't Harry's fault at all. He was just as much a victim of recent events as she was, maybe even more so. As the adult, it was her job to protect him from further harm, not the other way around. Of course, that was easier said than done, what with her not being magical while all of their enemies were.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself so that she could back away from the edge of panic that she was in danger of slipping into, Petunia busied herself with cleaning up her cup of tea. She fussed about getting everything back onto the tray and then carried it back out into the kitchen. She turned the faucet over the sink on and picked up the dish cloth to begin the soothing and utterly normal task of washing her dishes.

Magic, and by extension the Magical World, had been denied to her. At a young age she had devoted herself to the muggle world and to all things muggle. It was part spite, a way of rejecting what had already rejected her and it was part pride, a way of saying that she wouldn't let such a thing as lack of magic hold her back or keep her down. Her family understood and respected that in their own way.

Usually, when immersed in a domestic task of a muggle nature, she would be able to reach a state of emotional contentment without past or future where she merely existed in a gentle and peaceful bubble of 'now'. Today, when she needed that skill the most, it failed her and her mind was pulled once more into the dark and terrifying past of her family as well as the consequences of actions she had no defense against.

When her great-uncle Gellert Grindelwald was defeated in battle and his power structure broken, the most fervent of his family, allies and followers had received the harshest punishment the Wizarding World could devise; they had been striped of their magic and sentenced to Nurmengard Prison to live out the rest of their lives.

Her mother had been pregnant at the time with Petunia herself. The spell had striped the magic out of both of them and they had both nearly died. Petunia would never forgive the Wizarding World for that. Even if they had decided that Valencia Ivanova was too dangerous to keep her magic, Petunia had never committed a crime. She hadn't even been born yet. They could have kept her mother in an enchanted sleep until Petunia was born and then cast their ghastly spell. Because they didn't care for an innocent unborn baby, Petunia was cursed to be a squib just as her parents and grandparents were.

Her mother had used the event of going into labor and needing to give birth for the opportunity it was and escaped Nurmengard. She returned two years later with the entire Krum family and the remnants of the Ivanov family at her back and helped to break Petunia's father and grandparents out. Great-uncle Gellert had been far too closely guarded to free.

Less than a year later, Grigori and Valencia Ivanov became Gregory and Valerie Evans. They then moved to London to start a new life hiding in plain sight amongst the muggles. No one was shocked when Petunia failed to show any signs of magic, although the family was heartbroken over it. Lily, on the other hand, was a complete surprise. Even her birth had been a shock as everyone thought the spell that had pulled the magic out of Valencia while pregnant had ruined any chance of her having children again. That Lily was a witch was a further surprise and highly celebrated.

Petunia turned the water off and put up the dish washing cloth to dry. Grabbing a soft drying towel, she began to methodically dry her dishes and put them away. She took heart from the fact that all of her porcelain, stoneware and silver were simple, plain, ordinary muggle pieces with not a magical object in sight. It very easily could have been just the opposite.

Lily's show of magic had not only been a source of joy for her family in regards to Lily herself, but for Petunia as well. They believed that Lily's magic was proof that Petunia could give birth to magical children even if magic was denied to her personally. While that thought may have comforted her parents and grandparents, it had angered Petunia nearly into a rage. She had long since turned her back on the Magical World and had just started dating Vernon. Despite her parents offer to contract a marriage to a strong and sympathetic Wizard that was not offended by her own lack of magic, Petunia refused.

The very idea of being nothing more than a brood mare to some Dark Wizard who wanted her for nothing more than to produce children that would bind him to the Ivanov and Grindelwald family lines infuriated her. She didn't want to be the pitied object of ridicule in her own home. She wanted a nice normal muggle life with Vernon and that's just what she got.

Finished putting away her dishes, Petunia walked back down the hall to the bottom of the stairs and listened for a moment. Silence was the only thing to meet her ears so that meant that Dudley was still sleeping. A quick glance at the clock informed her that she still had several hours before Vernon would be home from work. Thinking of Vernon made her wince slightly.

Her husband was a hard working and utterly normal muggle. A bit narrow minded at times and occasionally heavy handed when subtlety would be more appropriate, but Petunia had learned to live with his little quirks. His views on magic were a bit… extreme, however. Not that Petunia really disagreed, but it was the reasons behind it that differed. Petunia knew exactly where her anger and resentment with the Magical World came from and she realized that her almost obsessive nature with the muggle world was born out of that anger and resentment.

Vernon hated magic because he thought it evil and unnatural. Petunia didn't agree, but had never argued against him and even went so far as to allow both him and her family to believe she agreed. It had worked to keep her from becoming a living baby factory for some strange wizard that charmed her parents into believing he would care for her.

Of course, Vernon's introduction to magic hadn't been all that great. Lily had used accidental magic to turn Vernon upside down and hang him from the ceiling when he'd startled her walking around the corner in the hallway. Lily had been mortified and apologized profusely, but Vernon had always believed that she had done it on purpose. He had also been angered when her parents hadn't punished Lily, but praised her instead. He never knew, nor would he understand, that they saw any evidence of Lily having magic as a good thing no matter what she did with it simply because they never believed that she could have magic in the first place. They, like everyone else, had always assumed that Lily would end up a squib like her sister and parents.

Stepping back into the living room and looking over at Harry, Petunia frowned. She considered it an extreme shame that he looked so much like his oaf of a father instead of like his mother. That he should resemble the line of Potter instead of the line of Ivanov or Grindelwald was only another reminder of Lily's final betrayal. Her sweet Dudley was a mix of Grindelwald and Dursley. Dudley being half muggle made Petunia believe that the Dursley half of his heritage would win out in the end. She could only hope that Harry's strong resemblance to the Potter line would fade with time. Lily herself had closely resembled her Ivanov heritage while Petunia took strongly after her grandmother Katerina.

Of course, thinking of Lily reminded Petunia of the whirlwind of problems and convoluted lies that her burgeoning magic created. The same problems that Petunia would no doubt one day face over Harry. Lily being magical might have been a source of relief and joy, but it also left her parents with a bit of a dilemma. Should Lily claim her heritage as an Ivanova she would enjoy all the benefits of being a pureblood. She would also suffer the stigma of being from a Dark family and being the great-niece of the infamous Grindelwald. Should Lily pretend to be a muggleborn of the purely made-up Evans family, she would legally be a second-class citizen and have her rights curtailed sharply.

Their father wanted Lily to go to one of the older and more respected Witches day schools in Europe, but Lily wanted the full boarding school experience and was crushed when she found out that the school Edward went to, Durmstrang, was only for boys. Beauxbatons had been strongly considered when Lily found out the truth about Albus Dumbledore. The fact that her great-uncle's dearest and most trusted friend had turned on him and betrayed him in such horrifying ways had ignited a passion in her. She insisted on going to Hogwarts as a muggleborn. Her goal was to find a way to steal back the Elder Wand that was rightfully Edwards' inheritance.

That never came to pass. Instead, Lily fell in love with a boy who was pledged to serve Dumbledore and got caught up in the relatively small war with the so called Dark Lord Voldemort. As much as Petunia resented the Wizarding World for what they had done to her, she knew her history. The Death Eaters were amateurs compared to the Dark Witches and Wizards of the Ivanov family and the Black Guard. Gellert Grindelwald had torn the entire world, both muggle and magical, asunder with his power and his minions. Voldemort barely terrorized all of Great Britain. That Lily would abandon her quest to restore her family's honor in order to take up the standard of the enemy Dumbledore was another thing that Petunia would never forgive.

Now here she was with the orphaned son of her betraying sister and being watched from afar by the very people that had destroyed her family and stolen her own magic. The whole situation was ludicrous and dangerous. She was being forced to assist the greatest enemy of her family and was surrounded by muggles that couldn't help even if they wanted to. She had no way to contact her family for help and wasn't sure if that was the way to go even if she could.

In truth, Petunia was terrified. If the truth of her family's past came to light then she was ruined. Vernon would leave and probably take her own son Dudley with him. The neighbors would shun her for her nebulous connection to Hitler; no matter how distant. The Wizarding World would most likely want to study her in some creepy magical lab and who knows what would end up happening to little Harry.

A soft 'pop' of sound from directly behind her caused her to give a little squeal of fear and whirl around in a minor panic. Her older brother Edward stood there silently frowning at her, concern swirling in his eyes. Petunia raised one shaky hand up to her mouth and tried to bite back the hysterical giggles that wanted out. She knew if she broke down and let them out that they would swiftly turn to tears and she would end up spending the rest of the night lost in a rage of anger, fear and grief.

Instead, she stared silently at the Dark Wizard before her, half grateful for his presence with his deep auburn red hair and his glittering and brilliant green eyes. Oh yes, Edward was like Lily in that he wore his Ivanov heritage proud on his face. That little voice in the back of her mind whispered that he could help with Harry, with Dumbledore and with all of the thousands of dangers that she would soon be facing. Her fear and anger and resentment wanted to just scream at him. To wail and punch and hurt him with her words, to chase him from her life.

Then Edward turned his head to look past her towards the sleeping dark haired infant in the portable crib behind her. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face; anger, fear, and then hope.

"Please, little flower," his voice was deep and musical despite the harsh Eastern European accent and that one little phrase instantly reminded her of the many times he'd called her by that silly nickname. "Please tell me that child is your son, Dudley. Please tell me that the rumors of the firebrand…"

His words were choked off, strangled by grief even as his eyes burned with a sort of forlorn hope. Petunia could only shake her head.

"Fire-…", she couldn't bring herself to use the nickname that Edward had given to Lily. Despite her anger at Lily's betrayal, the grief was still too great, too fresh. "Lily is dead. Dudley is upstairs. This is Harry…, Lily's son."

Edward sucked in a deep breath as the hope in his eyes died and his face crumbled in a wave of grief. Silently he turned to face her fully and simply opened his arms wide to her. For the briefest of heartbeats she hesitated and then she took two quick steps and threw herself into his embrace. His arms wrapped tightly around her and finally she could begin to let out all of the fear and anger as she started to sob against his strong shoulder. He just held her and petted her hair while whispering soothing murmurs in her ear.

"It will all be alright, little flower. I am here now and I will take care of everything."


	5. Magical Crystalline WebMatrix

**Magical Crystalline Web-Matrix: Unit Alpha**

* * *

It took me a little more than 350 years before I became aware. It took me another 200 years to truly comprehend the scope of my existence, the truth of my past and begin to experience the first flicker of emotion. Before what I like to term as my 'awakening', I simply existed and served the purpose I had been created for. My purpose as a Magical Crystalline Web-Matrix is, as everyone knows, three-fold. My primary purpose is to provide a magic-based interface that can be used and utilized by non-magical sentient beings. My two secondary functions are as a planet-wide matrix, or network of crystalline structures, containing recorded and stored information much like the old pre-war internet as well as act as a continually renewing source of pure magic for various wards, structures and permanent spells.

I am the first such 'crystal web' as we are often called. I am the original. I am the largest and most powerful. My fellow crystal webs are almost always located on various interstellar ships and transports, although I can tell you that there are plans in the works for crystal webs to be grown for two of the currently settled extra-planetary colonies.

What you don't know is that once, long ago, I was a living wizard named Harry Potter.

That shocks you, doesn't it? Most people either never knew or don't really think about how crystal webs are created. Most people have very little idea about the truth of the past because they were taught a very narrow view of it. A narrow view which is approved by the government. That's normal, of course, as the victor of every war is the one to write the history books. Terrorists and insurgents become revolutionaries and liberationists. Villains become heroes and heroes become villains.

You still look shocked. Didn't you think that those who history records as the great heroes might have been viewed otherwise by the establishment they overthrew? I'm not saying that the world today isn't better than the old pre-war world. I'm also not saying that it's better. It is very different, though. I'll give you that. Of course, those of you that do know about the creation of the crystal web and of my creation in particular will have also read the approved history of Harry Potter and his struggle against the great and beloved Lord Voldemort and will be quick to tell you just how evil and vile I am. Just keep in mind that it was Voldemort who wrote that account and he's always been biased against me.

You see, in the old pre-war world the magical races all lived separate from the non-magical races. Wizards had created and maintained wards that were targeted to non-magical humans. Back then, the non-magic folk were called 'muggles' and these wards didn't hurt the muggles; instead they confused the muggle and encouraged him or her to turn around and leave the area the ward surrounded. It was with these wards that the wizards kept certain areas purely magical. The wizards, magical beings and magical creatures lived in these protected areas.

What? Why yes, muggle is an ugly and insulting word. I didn't invent it and spent the vast majority of my life as a wizard protecting muggles, pardon me, non-magical persons from being used, abused and out-right killed by those wizards that believed themselves to be superior.

No, I'm not laughing at you. I just am enjoying the irony of having you ask which wizard would be so cruel as to attack and harm an innocent non-magical being. The irony being that the list of wizards and witches who routinely tortured and killed muggles for sport would be almost identical to the lists of so-called heroes that you all learned about in school. Back then, the term Death Eater was not referring to a desire to destroy the death of others, but to increase their own lives by 'eating' their own death.

Culture is an odd thing and insulating a culture from others creates a sort of stagnant belief system that corrupts itself instead of allowing for growth and change. Yes, yes. An interesting observation, but what does that have to do with anything? I just told you. Wizarding society cut itself off from the non-magical, or muggle, culture and enforced that separation fiercely.

Over a thousand years of enforced separation didn't lead to empathy or a sense of protectiveness. Instead it led to a vast sense of superiority and tons of contempt. Wizarding society was broken into classes based on blood status. Pureblood, those whose heritage and lineage was purely magical for at least four generations, was the cream of that society. The further back the lineage was pure, the more that family was regarded. A Halfblood was someone who had a mixed heritage. Originally, it meant someone who had a pureblood parent and a muggleborn parent. But it eventually came to also refer to what had once been a half-muggle, someone who had a magical parent and a muggle parent. Then there were the muggleborns, or mudbloods as they were sometimes called by the bigots. These were magical people who came from families that had no magic at all.

This was all very traditional and ingrained into wizarding society. There were strict laws that enforced it, although they were carefully worded so as not to seem too harsh even if they were. For instance, muggleborns could only hold certain jobs and could only rise so far in the government. Some positions were hereditary, but others weren't. You just couldn't get them unless you were from a pureblood family.

Taxes were set by blood standard as well. Which properties could be purchased by muggleborns in the wizarding areas were limited and of the worst quality in terms of structures and land. Rents were higher for them and wages were vastly lower. Being muggleborn almost guaranteed a person would suffer a lifetime of poverty and restricted rights unless they married into a wealthy pureblood family. Of course, that would instantly lower that family's social standing and political power.

Muggles, of course, were considered to be very clever and dangerous animals, but animals none-the-less.

You seem skeptical, but you must remember that I was there. I grew up in the old pre-war world and I can show you my memories of that time. I won't argue that Lord Voldemort was correct that the old way of doing things were wrong, what I will argue about was if his methods were the right ones. He had three reigns of terror, but you have only ever heard of the last one. Of course, the last one isn't recorded in history as a reign of terror, but of his efforts to save the world. You've only heard of that conflict because it is the one war that he succeeded in winning.

The old pre-war wizarding world was suffering under the weight of a corrupt and self-serving government, mired down by a stagnant culture that was based on bigotry and hatred and trapped by hidebound traditions coupled with a fear of change. The educational system was out-dated, backward and inherently flawed for modern society.

To make matters worse, the non-magical society was advancing by leaps and bounds. They were in the process of conquering disease, had developed methods of travel that could reach all corners of the world in hours, had instantaneous communication systems and were truly beginning to explore the concept of equality and human rights.

This is the backdrop of Voldemort's first reign of terror. Don't look at me like that. It was a reign of terror. Wizarding society was so terrified of him and his minions that they were even afraid to say his name. They called him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named due to the belief that he would kill anyone who spoke of him.

Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was the son of a pureblood witch that was trapped in a life of poverty and fear by her cruel and twisted father. When her father and brother were arrested and thrown in wizarding prison, she was left with no education, no job and no money. She had nothing except a falling-down shack and a raggedy weed-ridden garden that had soil so poor that very little would actually grow. In desperation, she made a love potion and with it she bewitched the son of a wealthy muggle. The muggle ran off with her and from all accounts she lived a good life for quite a while.

This ended when she got pregnant. No one is sure if she felt that she didn't need to keep the muggle bewitched because he would stay with her for the child's sake or if her pregnancy made her too ill to continue bewitching him. In either case, the result was that the muggle was frightened and horrified when he found out the truth. He left her pregnant and penniless and went back to his family.

Voldemort's mother died giving birth to him and he was sent to a muggle orphanage. The entire war probably wouldn't have happened if his mother had been given even a tiny bit of education. You see, she ended up selling her family heirlooms in order to buy food and shelter, but because she didn't know any better she was cheated horribly by the criminal she sold them too. She didn't have nearly enough to live on when she should have been able to live comfortably for five hundred years if she'd been given the amount her heirlooms were actually worth.

So, Voldemort grew up an orphan. It is unfortunate that he was raised in the muggle world where orphans were not looked kindly upon and it was even worse that his particular orphanage was run by a corrupt man who cared little for the lives and health of his charges. If he'd known even a hint of kindness or care he might not have developed a raging hatred of muggles everywhere. Of course, if he'd found tolerance in the wizarding world he might have learned tolerance as well. He didn't, of course, but that's what led to his evolution from Tom Riddle into Voldemort. Well, that and the Dark Arts.

I can tell that you are sad and feeling pity for him. That's understandable only for the fact that you don't know the rest of his story. If it had ended there, then I would agree. However, instead of rising above his past, he let it twist him into something obscene.

Voldemort became obsessed with immortality and death. He used many Dark and forbidden rituals in an effort to either increase his magical power or to extend his life. Once he felt that he was ready, he gathered together a group of followers that he called Death Eaters and he declared war on, well, on everyone.

His goals were the complete destruction of the muggle world and to rule the wizarding world with himself as an immortal emperor of sorts. He and his minions organized raids on muggle homes, killing and torturing the people within. Many muggles were captured and brought back to his base of operations and tortured there. It was a sport to them. They reveled in the pain and terror and hopelessness that their victims suffered.

Wizarding targets were limited to those who tried to fight back. Entire wizarding families were wiped out because a member tried to defend muggles and stop the Death Eaters. Simultaneously, the Death Eaters infiltrated the government; either by cursing existing members to be little more than brainwashed puppets or by getting marked servants of Voldemort into positions of power.

Fate and the Powers-That-Be had other plans, however. There was a prophecy spoken at that time that predicted the downfall of the Dark Lord and an end to his reign of terror. A child would be born at a certain time and that child would be Voldemort's doom.

I was that child.

I was only 15 months old when Voldemort broke into our home and killed my parents. He attempted to kill me as well, but the magic bounced back and destroyed his body. Everyone believed him dead and the entire world celebrated.

Don't make that face. It's true. He was not some benevolent leader that the masses adored. He was a walking horror that was responsible for hundreds of violent and painful deaths. And his interference in the government changed it from a bunch of hidebound and selfish incompetents into a bunch of hidebound and selfish incompetents who were hopelessly corrupted by the Dark.

The problem was, you see, that all of those forbidden rituals that he had performed on himself years ago really did work. His body had been destroyed, but he wasn't really dead. His spirit lived on as a sort of dark wraith and though it took several years, Voldemort found a way to create a new body for himself, one that his spirit could inhabit.

Thus began his second reign of terror.

I was a student at the time. His second reign of terror was a lot shorter and less people died, but the damage done to society was a bit worse. By the time he had been killed once again society was fractured into too many splinter groups and there was very little cohesion. The people had lost faith in the government, the media and the education system. Some people clung even harder to tradition while others wanted to throw everything out and start fresh. Some wanted to forget all the bad and just continue on the same while others spent all of their time pointing fingers without trying to fix what was wrong.

My first wife was a member of a secret government sponsored group whose stated goal was the reunification of the wizarding world into one cohesive society with as little violence and bloodshed as possible. Sounds good, doesn't it. We really couldn't afford to lose too many more wizards without danger of our people dieing off altogether. And a single solid group of like-minded individuals moving into the future together would be the best way to strengthen our society. Right?

Probably true, but it was the method they used that is so wrong. A little more than 30 people were recruited for the project. My wife was one of them. They were then to bewitch the people closest to them and encourage them to follow the various ideas, mandates and support the direction of the current government.

When it had been discovered what they had done, the backlash probably wouldn't have been so bad if they had actually taken action to improve wizarding society. Maybe if they had used the opportunity to revamp the legal system or to update the educational system or something. Instead they had magically pacified the majority of our citizens simply to be happy with the status quo, to not complain. The public outcry was tremendous.

I divorced my wife.

Don't seem so shocked or horrified. Yes, I was the first wizard to ever perform a magical divorce. No, I didn't realize at the time it would strip the magic out of my wife. It was purely accidental magic caused by a combination of lack of control due to coming out from under years of powerful mind-altering magics and the huge wellspring of anger at her betrayal. Of course, once it was realized what I had done, that bout of accidental magic was studied and broken down into its components to be better understood. Then they reconstructed it as a real spell.

Lots of folks ended up divorcing their spouses. That's how I was able to have a second wife.

During that time, the government was torn asunder and a huge country wide vote was taken to figure out who would be the leader of whatever new government came to be. I hate to admit it, but I was the one who ended up elected. My twice defeating Voldemort and my work since then was a big influence on people.

I spent over twenty years reorganizing the way the wizarding world governed itself. Elections for top positions became the norm, while others were government appointments. A person had to qualify to hold a job due to skill instead of blood status. The way laws were passed was changed; the way laws were enforced was changed. People were held accountable for their actions no matter what their blood status.

The educational system was completely reworked. Before, the focus was almost entirely on magic with only a passing nod at history, ethics and law. What little of it that was offered wasn't taken seriously by anyone and was mostly ignored. I helped change that so that students were required to learn real history, both magical and non-magical. They had to learn math and economics and business. They had to have a solid grounding in politics and how the new government worked as well as the basic models of non-magical government for the largest muggle countries. They were taught ethics and philosophy, literature and world religions. Various languages were also added to the curriculum to encourage a greater understanding of foreign cultures and foreign magic.

The education system was extended from ages 11 to 17 which was traditional for the past 1000 years to starting at age 5 and going all the way to age 20. The government paid for the education of all students from age 5 to age 15. The ages of 15 to 20 was optional and was at the cost of the student's family. This was in the hopes of preventing children from the poorest families from growing up with no education the way Voldemort's mother had.

Some people had trouble with all the changes right at first, but once it became clear what it was we were trying to do most people felt we were slowly heading into a golden age of wizardry. Those who would have been the worst detractors were all in prison from their part in the second reign of Voldemort's terror, so the worst of the blood-bigots weren't around to screw things up.

I sometimes wonder what the world would be like if Voldemort hadn't been resurrected once again. All we needed was a generation or two having gone through the revamped educational system to cement the new government and culture into place. Most educated people don't go for bigotry and the idea of blood status as being important. After all, there is no logic to it and there is no proof to back up such claims.

That doesn't mean anything to a person whose blood status grants them instant first class citizenry and a license to do anything they feel like it without restriction or consequence. As such, there were some pureblood families steeped in the Dark Arts that felt that the fact they were now limited in political power and being held to the same standards as everyone else was not fair. Their great-grandfathers had free-reign to go out and skin muggles to bind books or some such horror and so they should be allowed to as well. The government I helped to put into place would have punished them for that and they didn't like it.

So, they held a forbidden ritual and resurrected my worst enemy; Lord Voldemort.

Yes, yes. You've learned all about the Great Rebirth. No, he did not bring peace to a war ravaged wizarding world. We were already at peace. I know. I was there. His rebirth heralded the largest wave of horror ever known to man; the Cataclysm.

What you need to understand is; Voldemort had truly been dead this time. His false death after his first reign of terror had left him a wraith cursed to wander the earth. His second death was real and his spirit had gone to the Beyond. That's the kind of thing that changes a man.

From what I understand, he had been punished for his actions on earth while in the Beyond. He had been pure evil and they don't take kindly to that sort of thing there. They did a lot to strip him of his power and his hate, his evil and his madness and tried to teach him the errors of his ways. Personally, I don't think it worked. I think they just managed to convince him to change his methods and motivations.

I was a little over 100 years old at the time. I was slowly but surely removing myself from the political arena and letting younger people just starting out in the world to filter into positions of power and responsibility. There was a bit of unrest stirring in the wings, but most just shrugged it off as people not wanting me to leave my position as leader of the wizarding world and figured that it would slowly fade away in time. It was certainly nothing to cause any worry.

I later discovered that the unrest was surrounding the so-called 'rebirth' of the Dark Lord. It took a few years to convince him he wasn't still dead and being given some obscure punishment in the Beyond, but when he did finally collect all his marbles together he became a very focused and determined force for change. For a few years he was so quiet that no one even knew that he'd returned to life. He spent that time recovering and learning all about the vast changes in the world that had come about since his death.

He also had to convince his so-called followers about his change in philosophy concerning muggles. You see, he'd been informed that his policy of death and destruction for the muggle world was his downfall. Fate and the Powers-That-Be didn't like that idea one bit and that's why they sent that prophecy of his doom and caused me to be born in the first place. So, he had to fix his plans for world domination that didn't involve killing every non-magical being on the planet.

That's when he came up with the idea of creating a way to give non-magical people the ability to use magic and become of functioning part of his ideal society. They would be the commoners. The nobility of this dystopian society would be the people born with magic, the true wizards. Then, with born wizards to rule and created wizards to do the actual work he'd be able to build a new empire that would spread across the entire planet.

But how?

That's right; magical crystalline web-matrixes. He magically grew crystals that could absorb and store magical energy and then be linked to a smaller separate crystal. That smaller crystal could be used by a muggle to channel the magical power contained in the main crystal. The crystal enhanced muggle would never have much power in comparison to born wizards, but they would have enough to operate magical objects and to cast low-level spells.

He had several problems though and I'm sure that very few people in this day and age even realizes those problems existed simply because his solutions to them do not paint him as the kindly and benevolent ruler he wants everyone to think he is.

His first problem was stability in the wizarding world. No one wants to follow a fanatic when they are happy with their lives. So he had to relocate to a distant land where conditions weren't as stable and the people weren't as well off. People who believe that they have fundamental rights and privileges that aren't being met are usually willing to do strange and terrible things to correct any perceived wrongs.

His second problem was creating a main crystal web large enough to support multiple muggles in their endeavor to become a created wizard. Growing crystals, even at a magically accelerated rate was a slow process, so it would take years to make one large enough. Of course, once it reached the size needed there would be the problem of empowering it. That would take a lot of raw magic.

His third problem was that the muggles outnumbered the wizards almost 10,000 to 1. The world's natural resources were straining to contain them all as it was and there was no way that the wizards could prevent the muggles from destroying them all if they wanted to. That was the whole idea behind the Statute of Secrecy.

Vodemort found a solution, however. If he simply eliminated a large portion of the non-magical people then he would be able to reduce the estimated size requirements of the crystal web-matrix. Also, once he was ready to reveal the wizarding world to the muggles, he could be assured that there wouldn't be so many as to overpower the wizards with sheer numbers. In fact, if he did it right, he could be hailed as the Savior of the non-magical people and the Giver of Magic.

Heh. I can tell by the look on your face that you never considered his titles in that particular light. You always thought that he did what he did out of the kindness of his heart. His heroic saving of the non-magical races sounds a bit different once you know that he's the one that set the whole ball of wax in motion, though.

You see, he gathered up his followers; dissidents, extremists and pureblood bigots and had them go about creating magical potions that only affected people without internal magic. Normally, potions only work on those that have magic and not on muggles, so their work really was revolutionary. All those horrible sicknesses you've read about; the Blue Fever that altered peoples' blood and left the few pitiful survivors insane, Morgandore's Syndrome which left millions of people sterile and unable to have children, Carrell's Disease which ruined the digestive tracts of hundreds of thousands and left them slowly starving to death, all of them were originally created by his minions and distributed throughout the muggle world.

I agree, it is horrifying. The Cataclysm that destroyed non-magical society was created by the very man later hailed as its savior. There is no greater irony on this world.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to stop it, and in truth I didn't even realize it had started before my capture. What? Oh yes, I was captured by Voldemort and his forces and held prisoner in a magically enforced sleep for nearly a century. I'm almost positive that someone close to me had been put under the Imperius Curse and then forced to feed me near lethal doses of Draught of Living Death. It was at that point that I was transported to Lord Voldemort and placed in a type of magical suspended animation on the cusp of life and death.

The reason that he had me captured was to solve his other problem; a source of pure magic. You see, Voldemort finally figured out how to empower a crystal large enough to support the worlds' population of muggles. Or, at least the population as it would end up as once he was done culling billions. In the span of a century, he had orchestrated the reduction of the muggle population from nearly 8 billion to a little less than 2 billion.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't kill them all. From what I've been able to piece together from the scattered bits and pieces of information from that time period, the muggles killed off each other in large numbers for awhile because various factions and countries believed that their enemies had poisoned their people. Wars broke out all over the world. Panics and rioting erupted in various cities when the local death tolls rose too high. They were correct in that the sicknesses were engineered, they just didn't know by who. The muggles still didn't know about magic and were making the best guesses that they could.

By the time Voldemort was ready to reveal himself and the wizarding world to the muggles their society had all but disintegrated. There were several bastions of civilization and culture left and refugees from the lawless parts of the world were fleeing from various warlords and feral gangs that had sprung up here and there. By this time, the first of the giant crystalline web-matrixes had finally finished growing and it was huge. It covered all of what had once been Great Britain, Europe and parts of Russia. He merely needed to empower it and link it to the muggles that agreed to join the wizarding world by way of smaller individual crystals that would be implanted inside of their spinal columns.

Almost all of the people from those areas still civilized agreed to join the wizarding world. The idea of magic being able to save them from their seemingly destined fate was a wonderful one. The promise that the crystal web would continue to grow so as to support more and more of the non-magical people was also greatly appreciated. That meant that they could have children that would also be saved by magic.

I can't help but notice that none of you have bothered to ask was how Voldemort planned to empower the crystal web-matrix. It's a simple task really, you just have to take a highly powerful, live, born-wizard and rip his soul and magical core out of his body. Next, you shove it into the main focusing crystal of a web-matrix and hope that it doesn't shatter from the power surge.

The shock of that happening will, of course, wipe clean the memory imprints and personality of the wizard you use as a power source. At least, it will at first. As I said earlier, it took me a little over 350 years to become aware that I was a sentient being and that I existed in this world. I'm not a machine, a magical object or a dead thing. I am a living entity, an organic structure built of crystal and magic and a human soul. I have thoughts and ideas and opinions and feelings.

I am alive.

I have grown from covering one continent to spanning the entire planet. I am linked through my smaller crystal fragments to every non-magical sentient being on this planet. I can give them my magic to power their spells or I can keep it to myself and leave them powerless. I can control the magical ley-lines and magic nodes that occur naturally in the world. I can harness the magical and natural energies of this entire planet and I will live forever.

I am Harry Potter and I am angry.


	6. Two Howlers and a Pair of Instigators

This is in response to all those next-gen fics that have Albus Severus Potter & Scorpius Malfoy as best friends. Not that I don't enjoy 'em, but I think this is more likely...

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**_Two Howlers and a Pair of Instigators_**

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"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER!"

Several hundred heads turned towards the Gryffindor House table as Mrs. Ginny Potter's shrill voice rang from the rafters of the Great Hall only to see the third year student cringing while sitting next to his cousin and partner in crime Rose Weasley. The bright red howler hovering in front of them trembled in anger. Rose, for her part went pale, blushed bright red, and then went pale again.

"HOW DARE YOU TEACH YOUR COUSIN ROSE HOW TO CAST THE BAT-BOGEY HEX AND THEN ENCOURAGE HER TO ATTACK SCORPIUS MALFOY WITH IT! YOUR AUNT HERMIONE IS AGAST!"

Many of the students in the Great Hall began snickering, even as Al's older brother James began to smirk. Rose simply kicked him under the table and hissed, "I told you it wasn't a good idea, but you insisted we do it."

"I'M GLAD YOU WANT TO DEFEND YOUR LITTLE SISTER, BUT BEING CALLED A RED-HAIRED FRECKLE MONSTER DOES NOT WARRANT A PUBLIC HEXING!"

Al, at this point, just wanted to slide under the table from embarrassment. His mother's voice was loud, shrill and just a touch hysterical.

"AND YOU!" The bright red and smoking howler floated down the Gryffindor table until it hovered in front of his older brother James. The fifth year looked started, his eyes wide with surprise. "DON'T SIT THERE ALL SMUG, MISTER! DON'T BELIEVE FOR ONE MOMENT THAT I DON'T KNOW THAT YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE ENTIRE SLYTHERIN STUDENT BODY HAVING THEIR HAIR FALL OUT RIGHT BEFORE THEY TURNED SILVER AND BEGAN HISSING CURSE WORDS IN PARSELTONGUE JUST LAST WEEK! I MAY NOT HAVE PROOF, BUT I KNOW YOU WERE INVOLVED!"

Some of the snickering in the Great Hall turned to outright laughter as everyone was reminded up the fiasco that ended up with all of Slytherin House sporting shining silver scales, a forked tongue, and hissing 'kiss my bloody pureblood arse' in parseltongue. It had taken Madam Pomfrey hours to unhex everyone.

Suddenly, the howler turned around and zipped to the end of the table where the first years sat. It stopped and floated in front of Lily Potter and Hugo Weasley. The two cousins cringed in horrified anticipation.

"LILY DEAR," Mrs. Potter's voice was still echoingly loud, but the shrill quality had faded into a sort of soppy fondness. "DON'T LISTEN TO THAT BULLY OF A MALFOY! YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND SPECIAL! BOTH YOUR FATHER AND I LOVE YOU DEARLY AND ARE PROUD OF YOU!"

Lily groaned in pained embarrassment. "Oh, Merlin! Muuummm!" She turned her head and hid her flaming cheeks in Hugo's shoulder while the young boy bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Then, the howler shredded itself into small pieces just before all the pieces burst into flames. The ashes drifted down and faded away into nothingness.

Just as everyone was beginning to recover from the howler sent by Mrs. Potter, another owl flew into the Great Hall with a smoldering red envelope clutched in its talons. It flew over to the Gryffindor table and dropped the howler directly over Rose's head. It started to fall, then caught itself and began to hover in front of the girl. Rose paled so fast she swayed in her seat even as the cursed letter began to unfold itself.

"ROSE WEASLEY!" Mrs. Hermione Weasley's shrill voice rang from the Great Hall's rafters with indignation. Snickering erupted from most of the House Tables.

"HOW DARE YOU HEX ANOTHER STUDENT IN THE LIBRARY! I KNOW I TAUGHT YOU BETTER RESPECT FOR BOOKS THAN THAT! ONE OF THOSE DELICATE TOMES COULD HAVE BEEN DAMAGED!"

Al and James rolled their eyes at their Aunt Hermione's priorities, but Rose was grateful that no books had been damaged in their little hex war with Scorpius. Her mother could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

"WHILE I APPRECIATE AND APPLAUD YOUR DESIRE TO DEFEND YOUR COUSIN LILY, YOU MUST REMEMBER THAT THERE ARE BETTER WAYS TO DO SO THEN TO RESORT TO VIOLENCE! I EXPECT YOU TO USE YOUR MIND NEXT TIME YOU ARE HAVING A PROBLEM OF THIS SORT!"

The bright red howler then turned away and floated to hover in front of her baby brother. He just sighed softly and looked a bit resigned.

"HUGO DARLING, CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR TOP GRADE IN POTIONS! I'M VERY PROUD OF YOU FOR DOING SO WELL! YOU MIGHT WANT TO ENCOURAGE LILY TO STUDY A BIT MORE WITH YOU, HOWEVER! I HEARD THAT SHE HAD A BIT OF A PROBLEM WITH THE FUNGUS BASED INGREDIENT LIST!"

Even as this howler also began to shred itself just like its predecessor, Lily Potter's voice could be heard wailing, "Aunt Hermione! Not you too!" and then she hid her burning cheeks in Hugo's shoulder again.

Truly this was an entertaining morning for all those not named Potter or Weasley.

Then, to everyone's delight, a third owl winged its way into the Great Hall and headed directly for the eldest of the Potters; James Sirius. It took a moment or two for everyone to realize that this one wasn't a bright red howler, but just a regular letter. Groans of disappointment mingled with snickers could be heard throughout the student body.

After carefully removing the letter from the owl's leg and then feeding it a bit of bacon, James unfolded the letter and read its contents.

_Dear James, Albus, Rose, Hugo and Lily,_

_Congratulations on your amusing (and well deserved) victory over the slimy Slytherins (in general) and that malicious Malfoy (in particular). We are both so very proud and can only wish you had photographic evidence to share of your triumph. You are all a credit to the Potter and Weasley families. _

_Below, we have included the incantation and the wand movements for the Tentacle Face Hex. When cast properly, this hex will cause thin fleshy prehensile tentacles to grow upon the cheeks, chin, and forehead of the victim. The tentacles will extend about 30 to 40 centimeters in length before turning a deep purple with lime-green poke-a-dots. With this particular hex, the more power one 'pushes' into the spell, the greater number of tentacles will appear. _

_Because this hex is a bit complex and requires a certain amount of controlled magic to cast properly, we were concerned that it might be a bit beyond Hugo and Lily's current abilities. To that end, we have asked your Uncle George to send a supply of Wheezes to Hogwarts. They should arrive in a day or two. Look for the bright green owl._

_James, please take the time to explain to Al and Rose why it might be a good idea to wait until there are no witnesses before they hex Malfoy next time. That is, unless you five really do enjoy listening to your mothers' howlers ringing through the Great Hall. In any event, know that we love you and are proud of you._

_Your fathers, _

_Ron Weasley and Harry Potter_

Grinning like a fool, James folded the letter back up and pulled out his wand. A quick charm had it floating down the Gryffindor table until it hovered in front of his little brother Al.

"After you're done reading it, pass it along."

Al shot him a look of curious exasperation that was eerily identical to one their father wore quite often and then plucked the letter out of the air. James watched as he unfolded it and leaned over slightly so that Rose could read it as well. James' grin shifted into a smirk as he watched their eyes light up in glee before they looked up and over at the Malfoy heir in identical movements and chuckled evilly.

There was definitely going to be some serious planning going on in Gryffindor Tower tonight.


	7. Grandpa Harry

**Grandpa Harry**

_A brief glimpse into the dotage of the great wizard: Harry Potter_

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Part 1 – Great-Granddaughter Nellie

"Grandpa Harry?"

Harry gave a brief start as he was pulled out of his memories and looked up with a smile. His aging eyes were no longer helped by glasses much so all he really saw was a vaguely human shaped blur of pale blue robes topped with a mass of deep shimmering gold. He knew that gold blur was the wild untamed curls of his beloved great-granddaughter's hair.

"Nellie?"

"Were you sleeping? I'm sorry I woke you if you were. I just wanted to ask if you would watch the twins for me. I have to go down to the preserve and check on several pregnant females."

Harry grinned and nodded. He loved his two small great-great-grandsons. They were a delight in his golden years.

"Of course I'll watch the boys. Don't you worry; I'll tell them a story or two."

With that, Harry reached out one wizened hand and silently summoned his staff. While he didn't use it to perform magic much anymore, he needed it just to help him walk. He'd abused his body when he'd been younger and it was now paying him back in the form of aches and pains.

Nellie hummed noncommittally and then gently helped him to his feet. As he slowly began to shuffle his way from his study to the main sitting room, she slowly followed with a sigh.

"I don't know, Grandpa. First you tell me not to worry and then you promise to tell those two hooligans one of your stories. They always seem to find lots of mischief after one of your infamous stories."

Harry snorted in amusement.

"So says the woman who once, when she was a young girl, set loose all of the owls in the local owl-post shop while demanding that they carry her away and deliver her like a letter to her Aunt Clara in Hogsmeade."

Nellie huffed in his ear. "Yes well, who was it that gave me the idea and insisted that it would work?"

Harry chuckled and muttered, "Well, maybe it would have if you'd have written her address on your forehead like I said instead of just shouting out the destination."

"I heard that old man…"

Harry chuckled once more and finally shuffled his way into the main sitting room of the small house. Two small boys age six looked up from a book they were sharing and leapt from their chairs. "Grandpa Harry!"

The two boys dashed over and danced around him in glee, laughing and shouting for a story. Grinning fit to burst, Harry brandished his staff at them playfully. "Back! Back, I say! Like a couple of untamed crups yipping at my heels!"

"Ronald! Edward! Stop that before you knock Grandpa down!"

Pouting, the two boys stopped bouncing about and Harry shuffled over to the comfortable wingback chair next to the fireplace. Using his staff to steady his balance, he carefully lowered his tired bones into the chair and sighed in relief. It was difficult to walk even that short distance anymore.

He poked the floor in front of him with the butt of his staff causing a thick woolen rug with golden tassels to form there. Another tap of the staff created two furry red pillows to appear on top of the rug. Satisfied he pulled the staff back and stood it straight up in the air next to his chair and let go. It hung there obediently waiting for its master to need it once more.

"Well, sit down you two. Can't very well tell you a story if you're on the other side of the room, can I?"

"Yay! A story!"

Twin gold-topped blurs rushed to the new carpet and briefly fought over who got which pillow and then quickly settled down. He didn't pay attention to Nellie as she sighed softly at the thought of her children being corrupted by her beloved Grandpa even as she gathered her things together to head out to the preserve.

"So, which story do you want to hear today?"

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Part 2 – The Flying Experiment

Twenty minutes later, Harry's story of how he and his wife Luna had escaped from a cursed tomb on an enchanted flying carpet wound to an end. Both boys were suitably impressed. And excited.

"Can you make _this_ carpet a flying carpet, Grandpa Harry?"

Harry frowned in thought and tugged at his beard. "Well, no." His great-great-grandsons pouted in unison.

"Awww, nuts." Was Ronald's response.

"Yeah, nuts." Agreed Edward.

"It's not a real carpet, though is it? It's just a bit of magic that I conjured up for you to sit on. It won't hold the charms and spells needed to make it fly. Not like a real flying carpet, anyway."

The boys glanced at each other and then looked down at the rug they were sitting on before looking back up at the ancient wizard in front of them.

"So,… it has to be a real carpet?"

Harry huffed a laugh. "Boy, I can spell anything to fly as long as it's real. Carpet, broom, motorcycle, car…" he gave a wicked grin and winked, "your Grandma Luna's favorite pair of shoes."

"Her shoes?!" Ronald's voice was a squawk of surprise.

"Oh yes." Harry chuckled. "That little prank got me into a bit of trouble with the wives when Luna couldn't figure out how to get herself down from the ceiling."

The boys looked at each other again and grinned fiercely before turning pleading expressions on their favorite kooky relative.

"Will you spell our shoes to fly?! Please, Grandpa Harry! Pleeeeasse!"

Harry frowned at them for a long moment in thought and the boys were sure that he wouldn't do it, but then he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Fine, fine. But go get your good boots. Those floppy things you wear about the house won't be sturdy enough."

With twin whoops of glee the two boys jumped up off of their pillows and raced towards their rooms. It didn't take them long to dig through their closet and pull out two sets of child sized boots. Laughing in sheer enjoyment and excitement, they raced back down stairs with their prizes in hand.

When they returned to the main sitting room, the rug and pillows Grandpa Harry had conjured were gone and he was holding his staff again. He tapped the floor in front of him with it and said, "Put them right here boys and then back away."

Quickly, they did as they were told and then watched wide-eyed as the old man muttered incantations and poked the boots with his staff. They alternately glowed different colors or vibrated and the very air seemed to crackle with magic.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of solid casting, Harry stopped and leaned back in his chair to breathe deeply, his eyes closed. A house elf popped into the room and silently handed him a cup of tea. Harry took a sip with a quietly muttered, "Thank you Trilby" before turning back to look at the twins.

"Well, try them on, then." With a whoop of delight, both boys grabbed up their boots and crammed their feet into them. "Tie them up tightly and then just walk like normal. The boots will float up as you step. I put a limiter on them, so you won't go higher than three feet in the air, but that's a good thing. Don't want to bash your head on the ceiling, after all."

Within minutes, Harry sat back and encouraged his great-great-grandsons as they proudly walked about in the air.

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Part 3 – Family Resemblance

"…can't believe you let them walk about in enchanted boots that floated in the air! A story. That's all that you said you'd do, just tell a story! They could've been hurt. They could've gotten outside. Why in the world…"

Harry cut her off mid yell.

"You look just like your Grandmother Luna. Did you know that?"

Nellie gaped at him in confusion. "What?"

Harry nodded his head. "Yep." He pointed a gnarled finger at her. "You yell like her too."

"Grandpa…what has that got to do with enchanting my boys' boots to fly?"

Harry ignored her exasperated huff and leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed as he reminisced about the past.

"It was hard to rile her up and get her angry, but when you did… Oh, boy! Look out then." He chuckled. "I remember once that she got in an argument with my other two wives over the existence of snorkacks. Luna and I had already been married for several years and had a child by the time Su Li and Cho Chang came back into our lives. And while I never regretted buying them away from that Dark Chinese Sorcerer, it did take them awhile to adjust to living as the concubines of a Light Wizard. To make matters worse, Luna simply confused and frustrated them with her visions and dreamy ways."

Nellie frowned and flopped down gracelessly in the chair next to his. "That's ridiculous Grandpa. I remember Nana Cho and Nana Su. They adored Grandma Luna and took great care of her after her accident."

Harry nodded. "That's true enough, but what you remember also happened after decades of the four of us living together as a family with lots of children and grandchildren. What I'm talking about happened only months after Su and Cho became my wives. I married your Grandmother Luna because we were in love. I took in Cho and Su because they were old school friends that I found out were being horribly abused by the man they had been married off to. I literally purchased them from their husband." Harry grimaced and shrugged. "I suppose I could have kept them as slaves or some such, but neither Luna nor I wanted that for either of them."

Harry waved his hand and another tea cup popped into existence. Then the teapot lifted itself up and filled the new cup before it floated over to his own cup and topped it off. Nellie picked up the new cup and sipped at the tea.

"Thanks."

Harry waved the teapot back onto the tray and grinned at her for a moment.

"Anyway, the point of the story is that I was winding up my current project at the time. The curses had been broken and cataloged and the burial site was declared safe. The goblins were all set to pour over the finds and sift through all that we had uncovered. I was looking forward to several months' vacation and Luna wanted to do what we always had done; head off into the wilderness to search for the ever elusive crumple-horned snorkacks. Su and Cho, however refused to believe they even existed."

Nellie snorted into her tea. "Boy, they were wrong!"

Harry chuckled right back at her and shrugged his agreement, "True. But we didn't know that, yet."

Harry took a sip of his tea. "I, of course, was more than happy to indulge your Grandmother in her desire to search out the last remaining pockets of the elusive snorkacks. Su and Cho, not believing they were real were both less than pleased at the thought of spending that much time in the wilderness, especially after living for several months in a tent at the site of a cursed tomb in an ancient and abandoned Aztec city."

He grinned at Nellie with an almost boyish glee. "The fights over the existence of snorkacks were usually fairly one-sided, but than Luna finally lost her temper at them." Harry cackled. "The hexes flew furious and fast after that!"

Nellie goggled at him for a moment and then snorted. "No wonder you get along so marvelously with Ronald and Edward…you're nothing but a big kid yourself."


	8. The Master of Death

**The Master of Death**

_A Harry Potter Future Fanfic_

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Harry Potter; Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater-Of-Voldemort, Master of the Deathly Hallows, The Grim Reaper, Bane-Of-Muggles, The-Savior-Of-Magic, Immortal, was sitting in the back booth of The Leaky Cauldron with his hood pulled low over his face and nursing a Fire Whiskey. He preferred to say that he was 'contemplating deep thoughts' and was even willing to concede to 'brooding', the truth was that he was fighting off true despair over the hand that Fate had dealt him. Again.

It was the three hundredth anniversary of the day that he had truly become Master of the Deathly Hallows and returned from the Realm of Death to defeat Voldemort. If he had known at the time that rejecting the afterlife and embracing that power over death that the combined Hallows offered would leave him forever unable to return, then he would have just stayed dead. At the time, Voldemort had been mortal with no other horcruxes left and unable to create any more. Yes, it would have been a dark time for those left behind, but it would have been temporary. Either someone would have gotten a lucky curse off or time itself would have killed the barely human ghoul Voldemort had become. But he had returned to see Tom Riddle finished off for good. And been trapped forever as an immortal.

Irony is as poetic as it is cruel.

Not that he'd known that, of course. The Deathly Hallows didn't exactly come with an instruction manual. Almost immediately after the battle he tried to rid himself of the Stone and the Wand. The Wand he'd placed in Dumbledore's grave and the Stone he'd hidden in the Forbidden Forest. The Cloak he'd kept as a family heirloom.

And yet, they all were, in a way. He was the sole remaining blood relative of the long lost Ignotus Peverell. If that wasn't enough, he had mastered each of the Hallows separately through various ways. To seal the deal, he had bonded the Hallows, not only to himself, but to each other for the first time in multiple millennia when he used their combined power to return from the afterlife.

It was in his second year of marriage to Ginny Weasley that the Stone and the Wand returned to him. Or, at least, that's when he noticed them, tucked away in a box full of other miscellaneous brick-a-brack. He'd sat stunned, surrounded by the swirling dust he'd disturbed while looking through the junk piled up in their small storage shed at the Burrow, jaw dropped to nearly his chest while his heart pounded away in a panic behind his ribs. He'd paled sheet white so fast he swayed and nearly fainted.

He still wasn't sure to this day how long he had stared at them before snatching up a box and upending its contents everywhere. He'd placed the Wand and the Stone inside it, sealed it up with every locking and warding spell he knew and apparited to the nearest active volcano and thrown it into the roiling and steaming lava. Then he'd offended and worried Ginny horribly by going on a two month bender.

It wasn't until they moved out of the Burrow and into their own home when Ginny was pregnant with their first child that Harry came across the Wand and the Stone again. They were neatly and carefully packed up in that self-same box and the box itself was tucked away with a bunch of Harry's old school things.

Harry didn't bother to try and get rid of or destroy them again. He'd just moved all of their stuff into their new home and once everything was done and Ginny was satisfied, he'd dragged a confused Ron on a weekend bender the likes of which neither man had ever experienced before. Ginny and Hermione were both less than sympathetic about their hangovers, but Harry only just managed to force himself to sober up instead of staying blissfully drunk. If Ginny hadn't have been pregnant, he'd have drunk every pub in Britain dry. Instead, he just resolved to ignore them. He'd go on about his life as if he didn't have the three most powerful and dark magical objects in the entire world tucked away in a drawer of his desk in the Master Study of their home.

Everyone was convinced that it was his own life experiences of being attacked in Godric's Hollow as a young child that inspired him to put up every single ward and protective charm he could think of on their house and property. That only Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley knew where their home was and could actually enter the building made some call him paranoid, but others just shook their head sadly and muttered about how he wouldn't let his son grow up an orphan the way he had. Only Harry himself knew that the wards were really to protect the Hallows. Even if he never touched them or used them. Ever.

It was around the time that his first son and heir went off to Hogwarts that he started dreaming of them. Some nights it was a dream about the Wand and the awesome and unbeatable power it contained. Some nights he dreamed of the Stone and the dread and terrible power it could control. Some nights he dreamed of his Cloak and they were a mix of real memories and unspoken desires. Occasionally, he would dream of all three and how their individual power and might combined to create something so wondrous and horrific; a true immortal with urges and instincts far removed from that which drove humanity.

By the time his daughter Lily was preparing for her OWL's, Harry began to take out the Hallows and hold them. He would caress them, feeling the power shimmering just beneath their surface. A power that was echoed in his flesh, his blood, and his very soul. Thoughts and ideas foreign to him would drift through his mind like a siren's song. And he yearned…for what? He could never quite say, but he feared it as much as he wished for it. In the end, he would tuck the Hallows away and try to banish them from his thoughts once again.

The first time he wore all three of them out of the house was to Lily's wedding to Lionel Shacklebolt. The Wand was tucked into a holster on his arm and the Stone was set as a pendant on a chain around his neck. The Cloak he wore over his clothes, but under the dress robes bought for the occasion. It was a beautiful ceremony despite the fact that Harry crackled with power the whole time.

Over the years, Ginny got used to seeing the Hallows on him and after a while she even figured out what they were. She never spoke of it and never even hinted at what she might think about them or Harry's obsession with them. Harry suspected it was because if she dwelled on them too much then they, and he himself, would terrify her. Merlin knows that they scared him silly, even if they rarely ever left his presence anymore.

Several years after he had been presented with his first grandchild, the Hallows began to…change. They began to become translucent to his eyes and seemed to loose solidity at times. While he could always touch them and them he, other objects would slip through the Hallows as if they weren't even there. Some voice in the back of his head wanted to panic over this new development. It demanded that he begin researching the reasons for this growing transparency and lack of solidity immediately. And yet…he didn't panic. Instinct was overruling intellect and he somehow just _knew_ that this was meant to be.

It was a terrible and stormy night with the wind shrieking and rain pounding down while lightening and thunder shredded the sky when the Deathly Hallows vanished for good.

Only, they didn't so much disappear from this world as they were slowly and steadily absorbed into Harry's flesh, sinking into his skin and blood and magic. The bonding, which had started so very many years ago, was now complete. Harry Potter was now, and for all time, the Master of Death.

Harry was aware, on some level, that this true bonding had been inevitable from the instant that he mastered all three Hallows. It had only taken so long to finalize because he had fought it so long and so hard; refusing to accept his fate. There was more to being a true immortal than just living forever and he had instinctively known that and tried to prevent his…evolution from a man into an…entity. All he had ever wanted was a family; delusions of godhood had been Voldemort's desire, not his. And yet…

As the Master of Death Harry could see things, know things, that he'd never even considered before. He could feel the very earth cry out in pain from the pollution of her being, from the overpopulation of one species and the dying out of so many others. So many systems and ecologies were out of balance. He knew that by the end of the millennia, nearly half of the mundane species of plants and animals would be extinct and the last hold out of the magical races; the goblins, would be on the very edge of dying out as well.

He could feel the magical world dying; slowly stagnating and shrinking little by little until all magic was gone and only he remained.

For over a year he was inconsolable, flipping back and forth from an unquenchable rage and the blackest depths of depression. The only thing that kept him out of St Mungo's or Azkaban is that neither place could hold him against his will. His friends and family all pleaded with him to talk to them, to explain what was bothering him so that they could help and make things better. How could he tell them that he was the Master of Death and that he knew that the muggles were slowly but surely destroying the planet and all life on it with their science, technology and over breeding?

It was finally Luna that set him straight. She'd looked him right in the eyes and solemnly said, "The nargles will show you how to fix the problem if you would only just stop letting the wrackspurts define your morality."

Hermione had been grateful that he had pulled out of his funk and appalled that Luna's nonsense did the trick. Ron was convinced that Harry had cracked just as badly as Luna and figured that it took one nutter to calm down another. Ginny just seemed sad and Harry was sure she knew something was different, even if she couldn't exactly say what.

For Harry, however, Luna's little speech wasn't crazy for now he could see that Luna was different. Special. She was descended from someone like Harry; a living Avatar of an Eternal Entity. She could see things and know things that were beyond the limited scope of humanity, even if they rarely made sense to her. She was not an immortal, but her bloodline had been touched by one. What Luna had said and what Harry had heard were two different things. Luna had spoken of nargles and wrackspurts; Harry had heard a lecture on duty and responsibility verses the mores and morals of a species he no longer was a member of.

He was the Master of Death and clinging to his humanity would doom the world and all of the creatures living in it. In order to save all life he would have to discard his humanity and become that which he hated most; a killer. He would be the darkest Dark Lord to ever walk the earth and eventually all life would come to know him as he truly was. They would love him and despair.

By the time his first grandchild was placed in his arms for the first time, Harry Potter had the blood of over five-hundred thousand muggles on his hands and he had fathered ten powerfully magical children on various squibs throughout the world. By the time he held his second grandchild those numbers had climbed to one million and twenty-five respectively. He had also found a way to render muggle males unable to father children. He'd used this spell to magically sterilize nearly two-hundred thousand men. He had used the Imperious curse in those same cities to force a whole bunch of wizards to donate sperm to the various muggle sperm banks. The birth rate of muggleborns jumped dramatically in those cities.

Ginny wasn't blind to his activities, but she did turn a blind eye. Harry might have thought she didn't truly realize or understand what he had become until the day she sat at her vanity and gently fingered the streaks of sliver in her still mostly red hair and said, "Will you miss me when I'm gone?" Harry had turned around to stare at her, confused and concerned until he noticed their reflections in the mirror. Ginny was sitting in her chair and he stood behind her. Harry had a somehow timeless look, his age frozen sometime in his mid-thirties if one ignored the age and darkness in his eyes. And Ginny…Ginny was ageing, her skin was becoming thin and wrinkled around the eyes and mouth, her once vibrant hair was faded and silver decorated her temples. The contrast was…shocking.

Harry stepped up behind her, bent down slightly and wrapped his arms around her. Their eyes met in the mirror. "I will love you forever, Ginny. Forever."

She had smiled at him, but it was tinged with a deep sadness. "And I you."

From that point on, Harry never left the house without using a glamour to make himself seem to have aged as well. He tried to spend more time at home with Ginny and the family. Not that he let his duty slide, more that he went out of his way to focus it on the magical world. He started a semi-subtle campaign to encourage large magical families. The days when a pureblood family could have a single child was over. He also worked hard to have lands and areas set aside for other magical races beside humans. The centaurs, veela, goblins, dwarves, and merfolk were encouraged to form new tribes, cities, villages, and clans. After all, it wasn't enough to reduce pressure on the ever shrinking magical world by reducing the muggles, the magical world had to grow to fill the void.

He also wrote several books. Some were on magical theory, some were about the various sentient magical races and how they should be accorded the same rights and respect as humans, some were about ethics and the nature of magic. The last was ironic and some would say hypocritical of him, but it really was a necessity that was a long time coming. The magical world needed some sort of midway path between the restrictive and oppressive 'order' of the Light and the anything goes mentality that bordered on cruel anarchy and 'chaos' of the Dark. He, more than any other being on the planet, knew that Dumbledore's vision of the future was just as wrong and ultimately damning as Voldemort's had been.

Between his social agenda and a few illicit fertility potions secreted in various public magical water supplies ensured a few decades of high magical birth rates all over the world. He was delighted to be presented with many many great-grandchildren. As was Ron. And Neville.

Then Ginny died.

He would like to be able to say he handled her death with dignity, grace and bittersweet sorrow. He would like to be able to say that he gathered his family around him and acted as a pillar of strength while everyone came to terms with the loss of their beloved matriarch. He would like to be able to say that her passing granted him compassion and gentle understanding.

The truth, however, is a far uglier thing. By the one year anniversary of her death over a billion muggles had died by his grief stricken and rage filled hands.

Harry had started muggle wars before, but never on this scale and never with such horrifying results. Ginny would have been revolted to know that she had inspired World War III, but being dead, she was beyond all of that. Harry, however, drenched the world in blood and suffering on a level never before tasted. He gloried in it with a madness that threatened the very world he had once wished to save.

That war ended five years later when a wizened old crone with a stooped spine and wispy sliver hair in a braid down her back turned one dreamy gray eye and one milky blind eye to Harry and whispered, "The nargles tell me that you are infested with wrackspurts again Harry. You really need to stop listening to them."

Harry had never seen Luna again after that, but he knew that she eventually died knowing that peace was once again spreading over the world. It took a while and a lot of illegal magic for Harry to calm tempers and work things the way he wished them to be, but in the end the muggle world came under the leadership of a single government for the first time in recorded history. It also helped that their numbers had been reduced to less than two billion. The magical world took advantage of this and spread wider to fill in the gaps and take up the spaces that had once been muggle lands. Many areas were set aside as wildlife refuges for both magical and mundane plants and animals. Even better, technology had finally reached a point where it no longer poisoned the planet with its exhausts and fumes.

Balance had been returned to the cycle of life and death and for the first time in a very long time, Harry began to know peace.

He wandered the world for a while until he found a place that seemed to call to him. He built himself a fortress of stone and glass and magic. For many years he kept himself apart from the world, both magical and mundane. He would occasionally travel into various cities and villages in order to tweak things here, adjust things there, or to make a few suggestions. The muggles eventually became enamored of space exploration just as the magical world became enamored of exploring under the ocean. Underwater cities began to spring up all over the various oceans and the muggles somehow managed to build a colony on one of the moons of Jupiter.

And through it all, Harry watched and learned; he practiced magic and encouraged both magical and mundane society to go in certain directions without making his presence known. He assassinated a few people, fathered a few children and tried to come to terms with the reality of his eternal existence.

Everything was fine up until a few months ago when he had come across a young woman named Eliza Longbottom. She was barely more than a squib. She had a wand, but Harry was sure she wouldn't be able to cast but a few spells that were harder than basic fourth year material. That, however, had never bothered him. He couldn't count the number of squibs who had given birth to his illegitimate children over the centuries. No, what wouldn't leave his mind was the way her golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, the way her blue eyes sparkled, and the way her smile lit up whatever room she was in. He could see her Longbottom heritage, as well as some Black, Weasley, and Greengrass. He could feel her joy and her pain, her hopes and her fears. And each night when he went to sleep, her face filled his dreams.

He didn't think he could do this again. How could fate be so cruel to ask him to love and then lose another wife?


	9. Spectral Existence

AN: There are some obvious differences between squibs and muggles. Squibs are not effected by muggle repelling wards; can utilize enchanted objects, can bond a familiar (usually kneazles), can see and speak to ghosts and poltergeists, and are effected by potions which would only poison a muggle. This story assumes that Lily was a witch born to a line of squibs and that both Petunia and Dudley are more squib than muggle.

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**Spectral Existence**

_The ghostly tale of James Potter's so-called Afterlife..._**

* * *

**

**Flash…**

"_A new soul has just arrived."_

"_Is he ready? We must weigh this soul in preparation for judgment."_

**Flash…**

Vertigo swirled him around and around like a child's spinning top gone mad. He was so dizzy that he kept expecting to throw up, but the nausea never came. The rapidly blinking light was blinding one second and pitch black the next. The effect was confusing and maddening. He wished it would stop so that the world would make sense once again.

**Flash…**

"_What is wrong? He keeps fading in and out!"_

"_He's fighting the procedure. He's trying to return to the realm of the living."_

**Flash…**

Sound wavered in and out all around him. First all he could hear was the overwhelming clamor of a violent storm. Then the rushing wind, the pounding rain, and the crash of thunder would fade away and let him hear voices murmuring in the distance before returning louder than ever. He could never quite hear exactly what the voices were saying, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that they couldn't hear him, even though he yelled and called to them pleading for help.

**Flash…**

"_James! Calm yourself please. Be at peace and stop fighting us."_

"_He can't hear you. He's starting to panic. His pain is so strong it's overwhelming."_

**Flash…**

The eternal blinking lights and the screaming wind could be blocked out and ignored. He had long since frustrated himself trying to get the crowd of murmuring bystanders to help and was now ignoring them as well. The cold, however, was getting to him. It was a steady, burning, bone-deep cold that would have sent him into a fit of shivers if he wasn't already numb from it. Numb and cold, he could no longer feel his own body and that was terrifying in ways he couldn't quite describe.

**Flash…**

"_What do we do? He's fading even faster and everything we've tried to calm him has failed."_

"_His trauma is too great and the ache in his heart drowns out our voices. Even with his memories stripped, he still suffers the pain of the living."_

**Flash…**

Enough! He had to escape this place. He was needed somewhere else. There was something important that he was just doing before he arrived here. He knew that. He could feel it in his heart. Something was happening…something horrible. Danger! They needed him. He knew that, but couldn't quite remember who it was that needed him or why. He just knew it was important. More important than anything in the world.

**Flash…**

"_He's tearing himself apart! We have to do something and quickly or this soul will be lost to us all!"_

"_Return his memories to him. They won't bring him any comfort, but perhaps he'll be less inclined to panic and shred his very existence."_

**Flash…**

Voldemort! The bloody Dark Lord was trying to assassinate his infant son! Harry! He twisted his head about, desperate for some clue as to how to escape this place and find his son. He could only hope and pray that Lily had somehow managed to grab the child and escape their home. He ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind that told him he would be able to feel the steady pulse of warm magic coming from his wedding band if Lily was still alive. Instead, he focused his hopes on Harry.

**Flash…**

"_I don't think we can hold him much longer. He's even more frantic than before, if more methodical in his efforts to flee."_

"_If I send him back, it will be a long time until he knows peace. Restless spirits are never content, never truly happy. I would not do that to him if I don't have to."_

**Flash…**

He was nearly sobbing with frustration and worry. He had tried to apparate away once again. Pain tore through his very being and he shuddered and shivered at the violence of it. He had to reach his son, his child, his very reason for existing. Harry needed him and he would not fail his beloved heir.

**Flash…**

"_Please! Before he shatters himself!"_

"_I wish this need not be. If only he would stop fighting, he would know only peace and love… Fine. Release him and guide him to the child and then bind him to the boy."_

**Flash…**

Everything was dark and still and quiet. He was terribly disoriented for a long moment, but as the world continued to stay calm and steady, he slowly began to center himself. He was cold. That was the first real sensation to impinge on his awareness. Bone-deep cold radiated from every single part of his body. He was aware on some level that he should be shivering heavily and his teeth should be chattering loudly, but he wasn't. It was as if the cold was a part of him instead of something imposed on him from the environment.

The second thing that he noted was a faint glow of cold bluish-white light. Pale and more phosphorescent than true light, he was slow to realize where the glow was originating from. Eventually he couldn't deny it any longer; it was himself. He was glowing. His body and clothing all shimmered a chill ghostly white.

Was he dead? Had Voldemort succeeded in killing him?

Emotions swirled within him; confusion, curiosity, anger and fear. Yet it was all strangely distant and muted. He wasn't sure if it was because he was suffering from shock or if that was due to his still to be proven status as a ghost. Hoping to prove his theory wrong, James reached out with one glowing translucent hand and tried to touch the small metal frame that rested directly in front of him. With a wash of despair, his hand passed right through it with only an odd and mild resistance. It was as if he had moved his hand through a watery mud puddle instead of solid metal.

It was looking more and more as if he was correct in believing himself to be dead and returned to the world as a spirit. He could clearly remember taking his wife and child into hiding. He could also remember their small family celebration of Halloween. It had been late in the evening and they were cleaning up. Young Harry was already tucked away in his crib and he and Lily had been nearly ready to retire for the night themselves.

Then Voldemort had arrived and begun tearing down their very minimal wards. It was, perhaps, a poor spot of judgment to not have layered the cottage with heavier and more extensive defensive wards, but they had placed a lot of faith in the Fidelius Charm to keep them hidden. Lily was apprenticed to a Charms Mistress in the research division of the Department of Mysteries before they went into hiding. Her teacher had studied the charm Albus had shown them and pronounced it infallible. James had been studying to become a Combat Auror with a specialty in transfiguration, not wards. The few smaller wards that the cottage had were all that he could put up himself. Professional grade wards would have required others to know the location of his home and he wasn't sure of any that he could truly trust.

He bitterly regretted that decision now. Heavier wards would have slowed Voldemort down greatly and given he and his family time to flee. He also couldn't help but wonder what had happened to allow Voldemort to even find them. He could have only gotten that knowledge from Peter, but did Peter betray them or was the information tortured out of him?

That was a puzzle to solve later. He had much more pressing concerns now. For instance, where the bloody hell was he? He remembered yelling at Lily to grab Harry and flee while he battled Voldemort. His last thoughts were a desperate hope that they had managed to escape before Voldemort cut him down. He remembered feeling the last sliver of life slipping from his body into a puddle of blood beneath him as the Dark Lord stepped over him and towards the stairs. Then nothing…until now.

Was he in his cottage, his ghostly form tossed somewhere in the wreckage of his home?

For the first time, he took an interest in his surroundings. It was difficult to see anything in the dark despite the fact that his body was glowing. Ghosts as a rule didn't radiate light that would shine upon their environment so much as they tended to illuminate only that which was physically close to their bodies. So, his location would remain dark until he brought his own hand close enough to any particular item for his shine to reach it.

Curiosity and worry for his family growing, James reached out towards the metal bar again and followed along its lines for awhile even as he looked down his body to see if anything was close to his stomach or legs. Instantly he realized that his body was poking up through something as he could only see from his waist up. Paying attention also let him know that his legs were folded up so that he was actually sitting on the floor of this place. The bar running horizontally in front of him was intersected with several bars running vertically under it. After a moment or two to puzzle it out, James realized that he was centered into a small, cheep, metal baby crib. He also noted that there was an uneven ceiling above his head, but that it was extremely low on one side and only a bit higher on the other. In fact, the room didn't seem to be square at all, but more triangular in general shape. Off to one side, he found a stack of those odd muggle diapers, a bottle of some sort of white powder and a small stack of stained baby clothes. In another corner was a bucket and several bottles of cleaning solution.

His confusion was giving way to a deep seated sense of horror that he was ruthlessly trying to push back with a wave of denial. After all, this couldn't possibly be what he thought it was. No one in their right mind would turn a cleaning supply storage cupboard into a nursery. The very thought was horrific, not to mention criminal.

Perhaps the child was too grown for this stuff and they simply needed a place to stick the items until they could be disposed of?

Determined to find out, James pushed himself up from his seated position and then through the metal bars of the crib and beyond that, the wooden door of the cupboard. He slid through the barrier in all his ghostly wizarding glory into the stark clean hallway of a muggle home. There was a closed door on either end of the hallway, one which clearly was an outer door and the other lead deeper into the house. A large archway lead into a sitting room that was meticulously clean with several muggle portraits on the walls. Most were of a small, round, blonde child with extremely chubby cheeks. The large family portrait contained people that he knew very well, but what in Merlin's name led him to arrive in his wife's sister's home?

Hearing murmured voices, James turned towards the interior door and simply pushed his head partway through. He didn't want to scare anyone by rushing in and figured a slow approach would be best. Partway through he stopped in order to gape in astonishment and confusion that quickly gave way to rage.

Petunia sat at the kitchen table next to her blonde son who was sitting in a child's highchair. The child had a large plate overflowing with food and she kept talking to him in an encouraging manner and shoveling food into his mouth as he carelessly tossed handfuls of the stuff around the room. Off to the other side was his own beloved son Harry. Harry was also in a highchair, but his stack of food was tiny, barely enough for a child his age and he wasn't offered any help to get it in his mouth.

He watched, horrified as Harry accidentally dropped a bit of his food to the floor. Petunia's head whipped around to glare at the dark haired child, "Stop making a mess you ungrateful freak! Maybe next time I won't be as generous with how much food I give you. Going hungry might just improve what little manners your freak parents taught you."

Harry flinched back, obviously afraid of his harridan of an Aunt. For James, this was the very last straw. He didn't understand why Harry was here, nor did he understand why Petunia was being so mean, but enough was enough. Harry needed him and he wouldn't fail him again.

James pushed through the door and flew into the kitchen, his face twisted into one of rage and vengeance. "PETUNIA ROSE EVANS DURSLEY!"

Petunia turned to face him as he glided over and stuck his face inches from hers. She paled dramatically.

"What the bloody hell is going on here, Petty!? And why in Merlin's name are you withholding food from your own nephew?"

Petunia trembled and shuddered even as she pointed at James. "Y…y…you're dead! They told me you died!"

James snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, yes Petunia. That's fairly obvious. I'm a bloody ghost!"

Petunia didn't answer. Instead, she rolled her eyes up into her head, gasped in a breath of air and then gurgled deep in her throat before falling over backward in a dead faint. James and the two toddlers all looked down on her slumped form laying across the kitchen floor. The blonde child began whimpering and sniffling as if he didn't know whether or not to start crying. Harry on the other hand, reached up with both arms towards James and called, "Daddy! Daddy up! Up, Daddy!"

James turned his head towards his son and nearly burst into tears himself. He reached out with one hand and ran a single finger along Harry's hand. Harry shivered involuntarily and pulled his hand back. "Burr… Cold, Daddy. Cold."

"That's right, Harry." James tried to smile. "Daddy's very cold and he can't pick you up. I'm sorry, but Daddy is a ghost now and ghost's can't pick up children."

Harry's bottom lip stuck out in a very large pout and began to quiver.

Hoping to get some answers and fix this mess, James tilted his head and called out to his House Elf. "Tessy!" Tessy had been bonded to the Potter's for years. He had inherited the bond from his father and knew that she could be trusted to care for his son. Unfortunately no small green being appeared. James didn't know if that was because he was a ghost and she wasn't listening for his voice or if she had been killed in the attack at Godric's Hollow.

"Harry," he turned to the small boy. "I want you to call for Tessy. I don't think she can hear me. Can you do that? Can you call for Tessy please?"

By now, the small blonde child was reaching a hand down towards Petunia and was softly calling out, "Mum? Mummy?"

James turned towards the boy. "It's okay. Your mummy will be fine. Tessy will help her as soon as she comes."

The boy turned to look at James and he could see that the boy's blue eyes were swimming in tears, but he didn't yell or scream. James wasn't sure if it was because he understood what James was saying or if it was because he wasn't scared enough to do so. Either way, he was glad the boy was at least being quiet.

"Harry, please call out for Tessy."

Harry blinked at him once and then looked up to the ceiling and yelled loudly, "'Essy! 'Essy come!"

The was a quiet sharp 'pop' and then a small green skinned elf with a squashed up nose and large bulbous eyes faded into view with a wisp of smoke. She was wearing a torn and dirty tea towel with the Potter Crest on one corner and she was thin and dirty. She hopped up and down in front of Harry's highchair and wailed with a mixture of sadness and joy.

"OH! Young Master Harry, Tessy has waited and waited for you to be calling her! She is being told not to come until called, but she has hoped and wished and now you is calling!"

Harry offered her a huge toothy grin and reached out with both hands, "'Essy!"

Tessy snapped her fingers and Harry's face and highchair tray were clean. Another snap and the tray slid off and Harry floated through the air into her arms. They hugged each other tightly. James had never felt so envious and so grateful all at the same time.

"Sweet Tessy, I'm so glad you survived the attack on the cottage."

"Master James!" Tessy spun around and then stopped in shock, her already large eyes going even wider. "OH NO! Master James is a ghost! Tessy be hoping that the bond had shifted by accident, that Master James be in St Mungos!"

James sighed. "No Tessy. I'm well and truly dead. I just appeared here only moments ago, but both Harry and I need your help. Nothing makes sense and things aren't as they should be."

Tessy nodded her head so hard that James was slightly afraid that she might have it come rolling off her shoulders. "Tessy being eager to help Master James and Master Harry any way she can."

James smiled softly at her in thanks and nodded. "Okay, first things first. Lily?"

Tessy's eyes began to water and her bottom lip trembled. "Oh, Master James, Tessy is so sorry, so very very sorry. Mistress Lily be gone. The evil bad wizard killed'ed her. She be taken away with Master James and be buried in the family graveyard."

"I…" James swallowed and closed his eyes as a wave of pain and loss swept over him. "I…I thought that's what happened, but…" He opened his eyes and looked down on his House Elf and his son. "Thank you for telling me."

He spent a moment just standing there desperately pushing the rushing tides of sorrow and anger away. He could drown in those feelings later; right now he had the living to think about.

"Okay. Um…for right now, I need you to levitate Petunia onto the cough in the sitting room. Something's not right with her, but I can't figure out what. Then, I want you to clean up both of the children and bring them into the room. Hopefully we'll be able to wake up Petunia and figure out why Harry's here with her at all."

Tessy pointed one long finger at Petunia and she levitated up off of the floor and floated gently along behind them as James led Tessy into the sitting room. He stood there waiting while Tessy went back into the kitchen to clean up the mess and the boys. Looking at Petunia and the room he tried to extend his senses around to figure out what it was that was bothering him. He could still sense it, on the very edge of his perceptions, but it wouldn't come into focus. James wasn't sure if it was because it was subtle, or if being a ghost was effecting him more than he thought. He seemed to be getting a strange echo off of Harry and he wondered if this was because he was bonded to the boy instead of the house. Still, even if he couldn't figure out what was wrong, he could tell it was something Dark.

Finally, Tessy returned with both boys and spread out a blanket on the floor as well as several toys. Then she laid both of the toddlers down on the blanket and let them play. Once they were settled, James turned his attention to the blonde woman lying on the sofa. Truthfully, she didn't look very good. James remembered her as a tall shapely woman with a soft smile and a delightfully dry sense of humor. Her laugh was outrageously funny all on its own as she alternated between snorting for air and braying like a donkey. She had never gotten upset by people laughing or teasing her about it either. While he had always liked and respected Vernon, he really enjoyed visiting the Dursley's because Lily's sister was such a wonderful, loving and generous woman.

The woman on the sofa before him was a pale shade of the woman he remembered. She had lost a lot of weight and was now far too thin for her bone structure. Petunia was also pale as if she had been avoiding the sun and dark circles under her eyes spoke of long nights with little sleep. Frankly, she appeared as if she had been very ill recently and wasn't yet fully recovered.

Beyond her physical changes, Petunia seemed much harder and colder than before. He would never have imagined her screeching at any child, much less a family member, and yet he had witnessed her yelling at Harry and calling him names. He had a vague memory of Lily complaining that she'd had a fight with Petunia before they went into hiding, but these weren't the sort of changes a simple misunderstanding created.

He frowned deeply in thought and came up with several horrifying possibilities, then he sighed heavily. "Tessy. Can you feel any magic in this house? I keep getting an echo of Harry's magic when I try. I think that I might be tied into him."

Tessy looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, yes Master James. Tessy be doing that right now." Then she narrowed her eyes in concentration and held out one hand. It glowed a soft yellow as she turned slowly in a circle. Finally, she was back facing the direction she started and the glow faded from her.

"Master James is being right. Yous ghostiness is being anchored by young Master Harry just like Tessy's bond. Also, there is being magic on the picture, the baby fairy, the silver bell and on the sleepy lady."

James' frown deepened. That wasn't good. Not at all. As far as he knew only a few magical items should even be here and none of the ones that Tessy mentioned were the items he remembered. Also, why was there magic on Petty? He could understand if Tessy said that she was wearing enchanted jewelry or something, but there shouldn't be any spells on her at all. James was getting more upset and worried with everything he discovered.

"Okay…" James scratched his head in thought. "Um, can you tell what kind of magic it is?"

Tessy's big eyes filled with water and her bottom lip trembled. "Tessy is so sorry, Master James. She is not being able to tell what the magic dos. Only that the magic is not being Tessy's, Master James', or young Master Harry's."

James looked up and tilted his head to look over at the portrait of Petunia and Vernon in their wedding finery. "What about Lily's magic? Did she enchant those items?"

Tessy shook her head. "No Master James."

"Damn."

Frowning in confusion as he tried to puzzle his way through this situation, he sighed. "What about Sirius? Do you know why Harry's not with Sirius? He should have been granted custody of Harry if both Lily and I died."

Tessy frowned and tugged on one of her ears. "Bad Master Paddy-feet is being arrested and thrown in prison for being bad dark wizard that broke Master James and Mistress Lily's secrets."

James felt his eyes widen in absolute shock at that bit of news. "What?!"

Tessy cringed and her large eyes watered up even as the two toddlers's heads snapped around to stare at him in startled confusion. The blonde child stuffed two fingers in his mouth and snuffled again.

"I'm not angry at you, Tessy." She sighed in relief and relaxed a bit. "I am upset at the news, though. Sirius didn't hold our secret. Peter did. The fact that Sirius was arrested for breaking it and betraying us to You-Know-Who doesn't make any sense."

Tessy wrung her hands, twisting her long fingers around each other anxiously. She wanted to help make things better, but she didn't have any idea how. What's more, James didn't blame her. He wasn't sure how to fix this mess either now that he couldn't just snap off a few spells. To make a bad situation even more confusing, he didn't know who to trust. He wasn't sure who sent Harry here, nor who had visited since then. Because of that, he couldn't even begin to put together a list of who might have put up those enchantments. That worried him since he had a bad feeling that those enchantments were directly linked to the extreme change in Petty's personality.

"Um," James frowned and glanced back down at Tessy. "What about Remus? Do you know where he is or what he's doing?"

Tessy tilted her head and her large eyes went slightly unfocused. She was silent for a long moment and then her attention snapped back to James.

"Mister wolfy-man is being very drunk in the old hunting cabin yous Grandpappy built next to the stream."

James grinned with relief. Thank Merlin that Remus was safe and sound.

"Okay Tessy. I want you to fetch a hangover potion and bring it to Remus. Tell him that you need him to come to Lily's sister's house here in Surrey. He's been here before, so he should remember how to get here. Tell him that Harry and I need his help right away."

Tessy beamed a big smile up at him, bouncing up and down on her toes in excitement. "Tessy will be doing this right away Master James." Then, she snapped her fingers and with a soft pop she faded away in a little puff of smoke.

James then turned and smiled softly at little Harry playing on the blanket next to his pudgy blond cousin.

"Don't worry Harry, soon Uncle Moony will be here and he'll help me to fix everything."


	10. Harry Potter and the Veela Who Wasn't

**Harry Potter and the Veela Who Wasn't**

_A 4__th__ Year story that explores the Hogwarts Rumor Mill_

* * *

"Scarhead." Draco Malfoy sneered at Harry Potter, his silvery eyes gleaming with malice and hate. "So…St. Potter, which one of these losers are you taking to the Yule Ball? The mudblood or the blood traitor?"

"Sod off Malfoy!" Harry snarled even as Ron reached for his wand and tried to stand up. He couldn't, however, as Hermione had a tight grip on his arm.

"Go away, Malfoy." Hermione glared at him. "And take your foul mouth and bad manners with you."

Draco's eyes shifted over to her and then he coldly gazed up and down her body before snorting in disdain. He turned back to Harry.

"My advice? Take the blood traitor. The mudblood'll just lecture you in a bossy tone of voice all night, but for a few knuts you can probably bribe Weasley here onto his knees for a good suck job."

Hermione gasped in shock and let go of Ron. He instantly jumped to his feet and pulled his wand. Harry's was already in his hand and pointing at Malfoy.

"Apologize! Now!"

Then, out of nowhere, Professor Snape appeared and snarled at the trio. "Put your wands down now! Twenty points from Gryffindor for drawing your wands in the Great Hall."

Draco Malfoy smirked, his eyes dancing with glee.

"But Sir!" Hermione protested. "Malfoy…"

"And another ten points for cheek!" Snape cut her off. Then he twirled dramatically so that his robes flared and stalked off.

Malfoy chuckled, amused. "You poor sods just never learn." Then he too turned and sauntered away.

* * *

Dean Thomas watched with a sour expression as Draco Malfoy sauntered over to the Gryffindor table all puffed up and full of himself. Then, as always, the little blonde twat called Harry Potter a childish name, insulted Ron Weasley about being poor and insulted Hermione Granger for being muggleborn. The three Gryffindor's responded predictably by insulting him back, then wands were drawn just as that greasy git Snape swooped over and took points off of Gryffindor. Harry and Ron gritted their teeth, Malfoy smirked and the two Slytherins stalked off. Well, Snape stalked off. Malfoy was far too poncy for that. He slinked away instead.

"Me'thinks he doth protest too much."

"Huh?" Seamus gave him a confused look enhanced by a piece of toast half hanging out of his mouth. Dean grimaced.

"Yeah Dean," Lavender leaned across the table a bit, her fork poised in mid air. "What did you mean by that?"

Dean waved a vague hand at the three other Gryffindors in their year sat slightly down the table and then turned to point out Draco Malfoy just sitting back down at the Slytherin table.

"I was talking about that idiot Malfoy."

He was faced with three curious and expectant faces from Seamus, Lavender and Parvati.

"The saying, 'Me'thinks he doth protest too much.' is from a muggle play, I think. It was popular and became a saying. It basically means that he puts so much effort into trying to convince everyone of something false in order to hide the real truth. Only he's gone too far and the lie's no longer believable."

"Huh?" Lavender scooped up some eggs on her fork and seemed to contemplate them. "So, what do you think is the lie and what is the hidden truth?"

Dean shrugged and stabbed a sausage with his own fork.

"Don't really know for sure. All I know is what I see and hear. He makes a huge fuss out of being a rich pureblood, so maybe that's the lie. He also makes a huge production out of hating Harry, but then he turns around and goes out of his way to get Harry's attention right before insulting Ron and Hermione. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's jealous of them for being Harry's friend."

Parvati blinked rapidly, opened her mouth and nearly choked. Grabbing her goblet, she quickly swallowed several mouthfuls of pumpkin juice and then gasped for air. No longer in danger of being killed by her breakfast, she turned a wide-eyed look on Dean.

"So, what you're saying is that you think Draco Malfoy isn't really a pureblood and that he's got the hots for Harry and is pissed off that Harry isn't interested?"

Dean tipped his head to the side and considered it for a moment. Then he grinned wickedly and nodded. "Yeah. That's exactly what I think."

* * *

Cho sat at the Ravenclaw table with her back to a group of younger Gryffindors. She couldn't help but overhear their chat as she waited for her friend Marietta. She could barely believe it. How could anyone really think that?

Still… they had a point about that nasty little snake always getting in Harry Potter's face and spewing insults.

But the rest? "I mean really, Draco Malfoy not being pureblood?" she muttered.

"Oh. Well, that explains it then." Luna Lovegood said across an empty space from a few seats down.

Cho frowned and debated with herself about actually speaking to the younger girl. It was widely accepted in Ravenclaw that the girl was a lunatic and would eventually end up in St. Mungo's long-term ward. Finally, she gave into her curiosity.

"What do you mean, that explains everything?"

Luna looked up and over at Cho. Well, to be precise, she was looking slightly up and to the left of Cho, but that was close enough. Her unfocused gaze was creepy enough, no need to have the little freak actually stare at her.

"Well," Luna began in her sing-song voice, "the wrackspurts gather around people in certain patterns depending on a lot of things. They tend to flock to him a lot more than normal. And the nargles, well, they adore Professor Hagrid just like they do Madam Maxim. But they actually think that Draco is one of them, just like they do with the Beauxbaton Champion."

Luna blinked slowly and tilted her head.

"Maybe Fleur and Draco really are nargles? That would explain why the wrackspurts cling to him so often."

Cho scowled. "Fleur isn't a nargle you silly twit. She's part Veela!"

Luna simply hummed a noise that could be an agreement or could mean nothing at all and turned back to her plate.

Still scowling, Cho looked down the Ravenclaw table to where the Beauxbaton students were sitting and looked for Fleur. She found the girl sitting there nibbling on a piece of fresh fruit. Cho studied her. With her pale blonde hair that shone gold in the sun and her pale blue eyes that had an almost silver sheen combined with creamy skin and that lovely slender build, the girl had an almost ethereal quality to her.

Then Cho turned her head and gazed across the Great Hall until she could scan the Slytherin table. There he was, Draco Malfoy, the nastiest snake to slither out of Slytherin in years. The twat. Still, he was nice to look at. From a distance at least. His pale blonde hair with the golden highlights looked nice when he didn't have it slicked back with potion. And his gray eyes were nearly silvery in the right light. And with his pale skin and seeker build he was…

Cho's thought trailed off as she really looked at him for a moment, then turned her head to look at the half-Veela Fleur. Then she looked at Draco, then Fleur, then Draco again.

"Oh Merlin!"

Cho's jaw dropped and she gaped in shock at what she had realized.

"I told you," came the sing-song voice of Luna Lovegood, but she ignored the mild taunt. She had learned long ago that just because Luna was insane it didn't make her stupid. She wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing. She was an outcast in the house of intellect because no one could understand her ravings, but that didn't mean they weren't based on real and solid facts.

"Um…didn't you tell me once that nargles lived in mistletoe?"

Luna blinked rapidly. It almost seemed as if she were fluttering her eyelashes.

"Yes. Yes, they do." Luna's head tilted to the side in thought. "That's why people feel compelled to kiss when they stand underneath mistletoe. The nargles enjoy it when people kiss and hug so they make them feel passion."

Cho nodded her head slowly.

"And the nargles think that Fleur and Draco are just like them?"

Luna got a confused look on her face and then looked down at the watch on her wrist. She tapped it twice.

"Didn't we already have this conversation? I'm just asking, because if I'm stuck inside of a time loop, that's the sort of thing that I'd like to know about."

Cho went back to ignoring Luna again and contemplated everything she had heard and what she had seen for herself. As a Ravenclaw, she could pick it all apart and come up with a logical answer.

First, the Gryffindors thought that Draco Malfoy wasn't really a pureblood and that he had, if not romantic, than at least sexual designs on Harry Potter.

Second, Luna's insanity had equated sexual desire and possibly romantic love with an imaginary creature she called 'nargles'. The only two people that seem to embody the concept of 'nargles' fully are Draco Malfoy and the Veela half-breed Fleur Delacour.

Third, despite Luna's insanity, Draco Malfoy does share many physical and social traits with Fleur. They are both slim and pale with gold-blonde hair and silvery-blue eyes. They are both overly impressed with their own importance and convinced that everyone does (or should) adore and worship them.

With a clang, Cho dropped her fork and jumped up from the Ravenclaw table. She was no longer content to simply wait for Marietta. She had to go hunt her down and tell her that Draco Malfoy was really a part-Veela and only told people he was a pureblood so that he and his family wouldn't have to register as magical creatures.

* * *

It wasn't until the end of the day that Parvati was able to see her sister Padma. They met up in the Library and grabbed a table in the back. Once their books were all spread out and everything was organized, Parvati spilled the beans.

"Oh Merlin, you're gonna love this one."

Padma smirked. "Yeah? Well, I've got a juicy bit of gossip for you too. We'll have to compare and see whose is better."

Parvati giggled and nodded.

"All of Gryffindor is convinced that Draco Malfoy is secretly in love with Harry Potter. I mean, the little pissant can't even walk past Harry without calling him a name or doing something to get Harry's attention. It's a lot like how a little boy will tug on a girl's pig-tails when he likes her. At that point, of course, his jealousy gets the best of him and he has to insult Ron and Hermione."

Padma blinked in surprise.

"Of course, it took a while for Hermione to see it. She tended to agree with Ron that Draco is simply evil personified and that's why he does it. But after listening to us point out different examples and explaining why we thought that she said that it was actually fairly common in the muggle world that some people who were gay couldn't accept it."

Padma frowned. Her fellow Ravenclaw Terry Boot was gay and he was a good friend and excellent study partner. He was very open about liking guys instead of girls. And while the other boys in his dorm sometimes teased him, it was all friendly and never mean. This was her only exposure to alternate relationships, so the idea that it might not be welcome was new to her.

"But…why? I mean, there isn't anything wrong with being gay. Look at Terry!"

Parvati nodded her head. "I know. That's what I told Hermione. She said that sometimes because of family expectations or because of the peer pressure from their friends a person couldn't accept being gay. So, instead of trying to live a happy life with another guy, they would seek out the object of their affection and try to hurt them in some sort of twisted attempt to make themselves be not-gay."

Padma gaped. Then she sputtered. "That's…that's…" She scowled, "that's stupid."

Parvati nodded even as she shrugged her shoulders. "Well, we are talking about Draco Malfoy here and no one has ever accused him of being bright. Plus, his father would probably kill him if there were no more snotty blonde heirs to the Malfoy fortune."

Padma's eyes went wide and a smirk flitted across her lips.

"Speaking of the Malfoy family, they've been very popular in the Ravenclaw gossip circles."

Parvati grinned and leaned forward. "Oh really? What have the 'claws being saying about that twat."

Padma's smirk grew and her eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Oh. Only that the great and powerful Malfoy family might not actually be as pure as they are so quick to point out."

Parvati's jaw dropped for a moment and then she squeaked in excitement and reached out to latch onto her sister's arm. "Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Padma giggled at Parvati and leaned in closer.

"We've got people researching genealogical lines for proof, but the rumor is that there's Veela blood hiding somewhere in their past and that it's come out as dominant in young Draco."

Parvati grinned fiercely, before breaking down into guffaws and chuckles. Finally, a hissed demand for quiet from Madam Pince helped her get herself under control though she was still grinning madly.

"So, do you think that it's the fact that he's gay that brought out the Veela in him or the other way around? After all, Veela tend to be female?"

Padma stilled for a moment. "I'm not sure. The best person in Care of Magical Creatures is Luna Lovegood. She'd probably know, but asking her would mean trying to wade through the insanity to figure out what she's really saying."

Parvati nodded in sympathy.

"We should have Harry ask her then. Firstly, it's his arse on the line. Literally. And secondly, well…" Parvati shrugged with an apologetic look on her face. "not to be mean or anything, but Harry isn't wrapped too tightly either. I mean, he doesn't talk to imaginary animals or anything, but most of Gryffindor think he's a bit queer in the head."

Padma nodded in agreement. It was fairly common knowledge that Harry Potter often woke up from screaming nightmares and that he would occasionally curl up in a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees and rock back and forth while humming and wearing a blank look on his face for hours at a time. That he never remembered doing so afterwards only added to the freakiness factor.

* * *

Hannah Abbot walked out of the Library with a frown on her face. She hadn't meant to listen in on the sister's conversation, but she had been looking for a book in the stacks right next to them and couldn't help it. It was a lot to take in.

They had gay students in Hogwarts.

Not that she had anything against gay people, after all she had known about Terry Boot. And Terry was a good guy. But Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter? That was a new one for her. The fact that Malfoy was in love with Harry Potter only made it more surreal.

Normally, she would encourage anyone to pick Terry over Malfoy. Terry was kind and smart and friendly and really cute. Malfoy was nasty and cruel and rude and had stupid hair. Really, if you had to choose a gay boyfriend, the obvious choice was Terry.

On the other hand, this was Harry Potter they were talking about. The Boy-Who-Lived was secretive almost to the point of being anti-social, he wandered around scowling at everyone and he was a parcelmouth. Although, the worst crime of all in Hannah's eyes was that he put his name in the stupid Goblet of Fire. For the first time in decades Hufflepuff House was thrust to the fore as the best of the best and then out comes Potter's name and the Badgers were back to being stuffed into the shadows and ignored.

Cedric was Hogwarts Champion and yet all anyone talked about was stupid Harry Potter.

Well, perhaps he needed a boyfriend to keep him out of trouble? A nasty half-Veela Slytherin boyfriend was good enough for the likes of him. No need to bother that sweet Ravenclaw boy with the Gryffindor Glory-Hound.

Smirking, Hannah turned down the stairs towards the Hufflepuff Sett. She was sure that she could talk her housemates into some matchmaking.

* * *

Marcus Flint smirked evilly as he stomped across the Slytherin common room, a letter clutched in his hand. He had put up with several years of Draco Malfoy making a mockery of the Slytherin Quidditch team. First by bribing his way onto the team against Marcus' advice with those brooms, and secondly by being a terrible flyer and a worse seeker. He was so bad that not even their sneakiest, dirtiest playing had been able to salvage the team.

And now, finally, he was about to get his revenge.

Still furious over having lost the chance to play Quidditch this year because of a stupid and archaic tournament that no one was really interested in beside a few 'puffs and 'gryffs, he hadn't expected a windfall to come his way. Then he had managed to overhear the so-called Golden Trio of Gryffindor as the mudblood and the blood traitor tried to cheer up the depressed and semi-frantic Boy-Who-Lived. Apparently, little Draco Malfoy was a nancy-boy queer with a hardon for Potter's cock and the Boy-Who-Lived wanted nothing to do with the poncy blonde shirt-lifter.

Not that Marcus blamed him. He wouldn't even piss on Malfoy if the boy was on fire and the only thing that could save his life was a golden stream of urine. That Potter felt the same way wasn't a big surprise. Besides, if Potter had a thing for guys, he had that ginger blood traitor wrapped around finger already. It wouldn't be too hard to wrap him around the Boy-Who-Lived's cock as well.

Then, as if that wasn't a big enough prize to have, he'd run afoul of some chatting Ravenclaws, including that skanky bitch Marietta. She was hopelessly in love with Marcus and while he couldn't blame the bitch for her taste in men, he wouldn't even fuck her with Worthington's cock, let alone his own. Still, she had her uses and was quick to tell him all about the latest Ravenclaw gossip. She babbled something about Malfoy family genealogy lines and them being forced to flee France centuries ago. Then she gave up the real goods and told him how the Malfoy's were hiding the fact that they had creature blood in them. Veela, to be exact.

Apparently, that was why the little twat was so hungry for Potter's cock. His Veela blood needed a good buggering and he wanted Potter to do the dirty deed.

Marcus knew that this was an important secret. One that could ruin the Malfoy family's good standing. He also knew that breeding in creatures was actually quite common in certain dark families. It erased the problems of over-inbreeding by strengthening the magic and reducing the chance of squibs, even if it sometimes had other effects as well. Marcus himself had some creature blood in his veins. If you went back six generations on his mother's side, you'd find a troll ancestor. And if you went back ten generations on his father's side, you'd find a giant ancestor. It explained both his height and his physical strength. Still, it wasn't something you wanted to get out. Pureblood meant wizards and witches only. No muggles. No mudbloods. And absolutely no creatures.

The fact that little Draco Malfoy was only part human would rock the wizarding world. Add to that the fact that he was also gay and the name Malfoy would be ruined.

Hence the letter. It was an explanation of the gay-Veela rumors with a few anecdotes of recent confrontations between Malfoy and Potter as proof. It also told about Potter's rejection of Malfoy, and speculated over if it was due to the Veela blood or the fact that Malfoy was a guy.

Now, all he had to do was get to the owlry and post it to that Rita Skeeter bitch at the Prophet.

**Boy-Who-Lived Rejects Gay-Veela Love!**

_By Rita Skeeter_

_Daily Prophet Reporter_

_It has come to this reporter's attention that the young Malfoy Heir and Scion, Draco Malfoy, has defied his politically connected and wealthy father in order to embrace his Veela heritage and proclaim his undying love for Harry Potter. _

_As many know, the Malfoy family fled from the authorities in France and found sanctuary here in Wizarding Britain centuries ago. Despite their claim at the time of wrongful politically motivated accusations of Dark Magic, it seems that the truth is much worse. Apparently, they were chased across the Channel for the crime of kidnapping young Veela women to be their brides. In order to protect their Veela citizens, the French Government sent the Malfoy (then Malfoi) clan into permanent exile. _

_Since that time, the Malfoy family has gained great wealth and prominence in our society. Prominence built on a stack of lies and the blood of helpless young Veela women torn from their family homes._

_Young Draco, however, has bravely thrust aside the veil of secrecy and has embraced his family's shameful past by proudly declaring his gay love for the Boy-Who-Lived and by attempting to use his burgeoning Veela allure to seduce our young Hero._

_Unfortunately for Draco Malfoy, the Potter Heir and Scion is not interested in perusing a romantic liaison. It has not been confirmed if this seemingly harsh rejection is due to young Malfoy's Veela blood and status as a partial human or if it is due to the fact Malfoy is a man. Perhaps our_ _savior has no love in his heart for gay men and women?_

_For now, the Boy-Who-Lived is still vainly trying to win back the cruel and uncaring heart of the muggleborn Gryffindor, Hermione Granger who has recently spurned his advances._

_Only time will tell if the Veela half-breed Draco Malfoy can cure our hero's broken heart._

The normal bustle of the Great Hall was shattered by the twin cries of horror coming from Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table and Harry Potter at the Gryffindor table.

Marcus Flint just smirked happily.


	11. Spectral Existence part 2

**Spectral Existence – Part 2**

_The ghostly tale of James Potter's so-called Afterlife…_

* * *

Muggles had tequila and rum. Wizards had fire-whiskey. Giants had honey-mead and ale. Centaurs had wine. Vampires had absinthe. And werewolves, well, they had 'Hair of the Dog'. It was a mixture of cheep brandy, a splash of the old vine, wolf blood, and a few other magical ingredients including a bit of werewolf fur.

Hair of the Dog was lethal to muggles and would make wizards, giants and centaurs so ill that they merely wished they were dead. Vampires could drink it easily enough, but they found it to be more in the nature of a diuretic than anything else. And that was nobody's idea of a fun weekend.

For werewolves, though, it was a strong alcoholic beverage that tasted wonderful and left them swaying about the room and slurring their words. It also left them hungover and moaning at the pounding inside of their skulls the next day. Most imbibers found the punishment was worth the fun of committing the crime of public drunkenness.

Except possibly for the werewolf known as Remus Lupin.

Remus had heard about the notorious werewolf drink way back during his 6th year of Hogwarts, but had never felt the need to seek it out. His lycanthropy was a fiercely guarded secret, one he wasn't about to make public for the sake of a good drunk. He was more than happy with the mildly euphoric buzz from fire-whiskey and laughing at the antics of his three wizarding friends while they were falling down drunk.

It was only recently, after the death of James and his wife Lily, the death of his dear friend Peter and the heart-wrenching betrayal by Sirius that he felt the need to get completely sloshed. So, after being told in no uncertain terms that he was not able to take custody of little Harry, nor was he to try and visit him at all, Remus had descended into a deep depression. The next day he had gone off and bought his first bottle of Hair of the Dog.

It had been a month since his world had effectively ended and he had only rarely spent a day of it sober. Some days he would go off to disreputable bars and taverns that catered to dark creatures, and as such wouldn't care about the presence of a drunk lycan, and toast their memories with drink, song and tales of merry mischief. Other days he would sit in the small little cabin alone and slowly drink himself into a rage where he ranted and tossed things about before dissolving into heartbroken tears.

The painful hangover was something that he accepted, and even looked forward to, as a sort of punishment for not seeing the truth about Sirius and preventing the deaths of James, Lily and Peter. He should have known, he should have figured it out. What was a headache and sour stomach compared to death and betrayal?

Remus heard a soft sound, like a soap bubble popping. He didn't look up from his smelly nest of dirty blankets balled up on the cot. In his youth he had been a curious and inquisitive child. In his adolescence he'd been paranoid and on constant alert for enemies. Now, he just hoped the end was relatively quick and painless so that he could join his friends in death.

"Mister Wolfy-man?" A high pitched voice whispered. "Is yous in there?"

A house elf. Remus wasn't sure how one had found him or why it would bother. All he knew was that its high squeaky voice was like an ice-pick through his brain.

"Go 'way." He replied. More whine than growl, but his head really did hurt.

There was a brief pause for a moment and then Remus heard it tip-toe over to him. A long fingered hand peeled back a layer of his blanket-cocoon from around his face and let the dingy dusty light stream in. While relatively dim light, it was still enough to make him flinch back slightly. Slowly, the house elf's features came into focus. The elf was thin with pale green skin and a squashed looking nose.

He blinked at the elf, unconcerned with its presence in his home. Suddenly, it shoved a vial in front of his face. The vial held a thick liquid that was colored a deep blue and had swirls of sparkling pink moving through it. That he instantly recognized it as a hangover potion didn't prevent the swirling mixture from causing his stomach to roll.

"Mister Wolfy-man is to be drinking this right up."

For a moment, Remus considered ignoring the little elf, but he knew that to do so would only upset it. Upset house elves that were prevented from doing their duties tended to respond in one of two ways. They would either break down in hysterics in fear of punishment or they would get all determined and force the issue. His headache couldn't take the former and he wasn't stupid enough or drunk enough to welcome the latter.

With a pitiful whine, Remus pushed himself up into a sitting position and took the vial of hangover potion. Closing his eyes so that he couldn't actually see it, he lifted it up and swallowed it all down. It was actually amazing how well it worked. His head stopped pounding, his stomach calmed immediately and his thinking cleared up for the first time in a month. He also became instantly aware that he stank. Badly. Ode d' unwashed drunken werewolf was not a scent that would ever be popular in polite society.

With a sigh and a quick glance over at the little house elf, Remus shrugged off his blankets and stood up. He indulged in a big spine cracking stretch and then scratched at his chest for a moment.

"If you don't mind, I think I'd like to clean up a bit and change my clothes."

The house elf nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, Tessy do being thinking that's a good idea."

Remus was more amused than offended when he found himself being gently herded to the bathroom by the little elf. "Mister Wolfy-man go and be showering while Tessy does be cleaning yous clothes." Apparently ode d' unwashed drunken werewolf wasn't a popular scent with house elves either.

Remus shed his dirty clothes and stepped into the shower and luxuriated in the hot water and strong soap for a long time. The hangover potion had made him feel almost like his old self. He was under no illusion that his depression was gone, but he was beginning to realize that getting drunk didn't actually help. It had in many ways made it worse as he slowly lost his ability to care about the little things; like cleanliness, decorum, and his own health.

It had been hard though. Almost unbearably so. He had lost everything in the blink of an eye.

During the war he'd had it a bit rough. His family was long gone, he had no real prospects for acquiring a decent job or a wife, and he had the monthly fear of hurting someone during his transformation. But he'd had his friends and a cause he believed in. He'd been content, if not happy. Then suddenly his friends were all gone and he was alone. His cause was over and though his side had won, he'd been left with nothing to live for, to strive towards. All that he could cling to was little Harry and the child had been hidden from him by the very man he'd once looked up to. Remus had been devastated and his grief and anger had quickly spiraled out of control.

Now, in the light of a brand new day and newly sober for the first time in weeks, Remus felt a small spark of the hope he'd once had. He could see now that the path he'd been on wasn't a good one and it had only been hurting him further. But what was the correct path?

That thought led him to consider the little house elf that had arrived this morning. It had seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it. He wasn't even sure if it was a male or female.

Still, the only thing he could think of was that the little elf had once been James'. The cabin he was living in was a Potter property. The Potters had been quite wealthy by anyone's standards even if they hadn't made it to the level of the Malfoy's, Black's or Longbottom's. More in the league with the Crouch's, Bones', Parkinson's and Marchbank's. It was enough to ensure that they had a few properties of various sizes, a business or two, and several investments.

This cabin had been built by James' great-grandfather on a large plot of forested land that the family had owned. He had used it as a hunting lodge. James' father had turned the land into a sort of nature reserve for magical animals during the war with Grindlewald. That war had destroyed many unsettled areas and forests on the continent and had displaced many wild magical animals. Some species had been in danger of being wiped out completely. James' father and uncle had spent a lot of time and money to capture these animals and relocate them to Britain. While not as big as Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, it also wasn't nearly as dangerous since there were no centaurs or acromantulas.

Still, it was the perfect place for a werewolf to roam during his transformation, so James had let him move in to the cabin after graduation and had promised him the deed in his will. Remus could only assume that his friend's will had finally gone through and that the cabin was now his. Perhaps the little elf had been willed to him?

Finally clean, Remus stepped out of the shower, dried off and then wandered into the small bedroom. He was surprised and pleased to see that his clothes were laid out neatly and freshly cleaned. The windows were open allowing in a fresh if chilly breeze and dust no longer coated the surfaces of his furniture.

Bemused and slightly amazed at how a simple thing like cleanliness could improve one's outlook, Remus dressed and made his way down the short hall to the sitting room. He found the windows here to be open as well and the little house elf was manically banishing dust and dirt from every corner. The fire was blazing in the hearth, but that did little to reduce the cold chill coming in from the December morning.

"Umm…" Remus trailed off, uncertain.

The little house elf whirled around and gave him an appraising look. Apparently he passed muster because it beamed a smile up at him and bounced on its toes.

"Finally yous is ready." A quick glance around the cabin. "Tessy will bees coming back here to be finishing the cleaning, but now yous has to be coming with Tessy to see ghosty Master James and little Master Harry. They bees needing yous to be coming to Mistress Lily's sissy P'tuny's muggle house."

Remus gaped at Tessy stupidly as his brain swirled desperately trying to figure out what he'd just heard.

Master James… He squinted at Tessy and wondered where his glasses were as he struggled to make out the faded and dirty crest on her pillowcase. "Are you a Potter elf, Tessy?"

Tessy nodded so hard Remus was afraid its head might fall off. "Oh yes, Tessy be Master Harry's elf now even if Master James be being a ghosty."

Remus blinked. Then he swayed on his feet until he stumbled over to his kitchen table and flopped into a chair. He reminded himself that hyperventilating wasn't a good thing even as he hyperventilated.

"James is a ghost?" he gasped.

Tessy nodded. "Yes, that be why he is being needing yous to come Mister Wolfy-man."

Remus nodded, his eyes a bit wild and his hands shaking.

"And he and little Harry are at Petunia's muggle house?"

Tessy nodded again. "In Surrey."

Remus sat there for a long moment just trying to absorb the idea that James had come back from the dead as a ghost. And that he was in muggle Surrey with Harry. And they needed him to come right away.

Blinking, Remus knew that he'd need time for all this to sink in and become real. He didn't have time to do that now, so he'd just have to take things as they come and try and keep up. Harry and James needed him now. He could breakdown and have a good cry later.

"Right." Remus turned his head and looked over at Tessy. "Okay. I'm going to need my glasses and my wand." He blinked. "And a coat."

Tessy beamed another smile up at him. "Tessy be getting them right now." And with that, the little house elf faded away. Remus sat there and tried to remember where exactly Petunia lived. He'd been there before, but it had been a while. The address wouldn't come to mind, but he did remember her back garden. Mostly because Lily had managed to sucker him into helping her and Petunia spread a bunch of dragon-dung fertilizer in the flower beds. Smelly business that. Still, he could remember that garden very well and was certain that he could apparate there.

Then Tessy was back, her little arms trying to juggle his large coat while her hands were carefully cradling his wand and glasses. With a soft chuckle, he took his glasses and put them on and then tucked his wand away. While sliding into his coat, Remus noticed that it too was newly cleaned and marveled at the efficiency of house elves in general and Tessy in particular. Then he turned to smile down into her large eyes.

"I'm ready, let's go."


	12. The History That Never Was

TITLE: The History That Never Was

AUTHOR: Scorpio

RATING: R

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is owned by Rowling and Scholastic. I am making no money from this work.

SUMMARY: Hermione Weasley makes a desperate journey into the past to change the future.

* * *

_**The History That Never Was**_

_Scorpio_

* * *

A deep blue flash of light followed by the bone rattling reverberations of a gong ringing heralded the arrival of a witch teleporting into the meeting room. Strong winds blew around, fluttering robes and ruffling hair. Parchment was strewn about and someone's teacup tipped over. Then the wind died away and a massive wave of magical energy nearly knocked the entire staff of the Durmstrang Institute of Magical Arts out of their chairs.

The witch was average in height, painfully thin and worn looking with lines around her eyes and lips. Her brown frizzy hair was messily pulled away from her face in a simple bun at the back of her head. It seemed less likely that it was done so for any fashion or style and more as a way to keep it out of her face. Her heavy winter robes were once fine and expensive, but they had long since faded from too many washings and were frayed at the edges and worn thin in spots. They were also far too bulky and heavy for these early fall days.

However, much like the vaunted halls of Hogwarts, it was impossible to apparate into Durmstrang as the powerful wards would prevent it. The staff, both teaching and support, were instantly on their feet in the face of witnessing the impossible; eyes narrowed in suspicion or wide in shock. Everyone had a wand pointed directly at the interloper.

Even as the powerful magic began to ebb and wane, she looked up at them all and smiled what was more a grimace of pain than any proper greeting. Her hazel eyes paused at each of them, noting their fine if plain teaching robes, their strong and healthy bodies and the near forest of wands trained on her. A look of relief flittered across her face.

She knew them all. Oh, she hadn't met all of them, only a few. However, she knew their faces and their names. They were her hope for the world. For Harry…

Headmaster Steffen Reinstadler of Durmstrang and his faithful staff members. She recognized Igor Kakaroff from the Tri-Wizard Tournament held during her own forth year at Hogwarts. But the others she had seen only in pictures and pensieves.

Tsvetanka Duskalova wore sensible earth tone robes and had a bit of fresh potting soil staining her fingers. Gavrail Kovachev had wispy white hair ringing his head from temple to temple and still smelled of potions fumes and brimstone. Sergei Sarapov was tall and thin, his eyes squinting from years of reading books with fading ink. His mustache practically seemed bigger than the rest of him. Thalia Danaiellis was a tiny and prim woman without a single hair out of place, a frown down turning her plump lips. Gunter Ulrich Krum looked like an older, healthier and better fed version of Victor.

Hermione swallowed softly at that observation and pushed down a wave of grief as she hurriedly turned her attention onwards.

Gizella Szepesi was plump and matronly, a more sophisticated version of Molly Weasley.

Bianka Bitschi seemed overly starched and stiff at first, but her eyes were soft and warm. She had both the discipline and compassion inherent in all medi-witches. Vladimir Vasilov was easily the youngest at the table and his robes were a bit more expensive than one might expect from a teacher. However his slim toned body and silken dark hair made him a very handsome prospect for marriage. Serafina Gorka was a beauty in her youth, that much was obvious in her slightly aging features. It was easy to imagine that she still inspired naughty dreams for her students. Finally, there was the earthy and practical Pantelis Papadopoulos whose open face and broad shoulders made Hermione feel an odd homesickness for the Burrow. This man would have fit right in with the Weasleys, she knew.

Then she turned her gaze to the room itself, the plain stone walls with its tall and narrow gothic windows seemed to sooth her and the grimace melted into a more genuine smile.

"My name is Hermione Weasley and if you scan me before the last of the magic dissipates; you will find it is temporal magic that brought me here to you."

Eyes went wide all around the room, but Headmaster Steffen Reinstadler didn't waste a second and sent several detection spells at the witch. The first spell left her glowing a faint blue and the second a bright yellow. The third left her with red glowing runes over her head that had many of them gasping in shock.

The Headmaster gaped at her a moment in disbelief before he attempted to pull himself together.

"By Merlin…you weren't lying. You're nearly crackling with temporal magics. I've never seen anything like it."

The witch, Hermione, nodded.

"I don't have long. The spell that sent me back in time is killing me even as we speak. In order to send me so far back in time it required the willing sacrifice of several witches or wizards…including the person traveling. I have maybe a half hour to live."

"How do we know you speak the truth?" a heavily accented voice practically growled.

Hermione turned to look at the man and grinned.

"Oh Igor…you always were a shrewd one."

Then she pulled out a wand. Everyone tensed and wands which had been lowered were raised again. However, she surprised them all.

"I, Hermione Weasley nee' Granger, do hereby swear on my magic and my life that I am speaking the absolute truth when I say that I have traveled back in time in order to prevent the second and third rise of the Dark Lord known as Voldemort."

Everyone flinched at the name of the Dark Lord even as her entire body flashed with light and then she smirked at the Dark Arts Professor of Durmstrang.

"Will that do, Igor? I don't really have much time to debate this and I have much to say before I keel over dead."

Headmaster Reinstadler cast a sideways glance at Igor warning him to be quiet and turned to study the witch.

"Mrs Weasley…please. If you know who Igor is…then surely you know what he was?"

She nodded once.

"A Death Eater. One who turned on his former Master and was killed in what is your future and my past for betraying the Dark Lord."

Igor paled significantly and many others exchanged looks of surprise and fear. After a moment the Headmaster nodded and addressed Hermione again.

"I have two questions. First, how did the Dark Lord come back? He's dead. Secondly, why bring this information to us? Why not Albus Dumbledore? It was he who led the fight against the Dark Lord, after all."

Hermione smiled, but it was a sad one filled with vast regret.

"Excellent questions, Headmaster Reinstadler. As for the first, Voldemort created several vile bits of dark magic anchoring his spirit to this plane of existence. He is without a physical form, but he cannot die in truth until all of his horcruxes are destroyed."

"Horcruxes!"

Professor Sarapov, a tall thin man with a balding head and a thick walrus-like mustache, trembled visibly as he leaned against a chair to keep from collapsing.

"As is more than one?"

Hermione turned to face Professor Thalis Danaiellis and nodded her head, her lips twisting into a fierce scowl.

"Yes. Exactly."

Half of the room looked ready to faint and the other half looked confused.

"As to the other half of your questions, Headmaster," she said turning to Reinstadler, "As much as I respect and admire the knowledge and power Albus Dumbledore welds, he has one major character flaw. He will give unrepentant murders a second, third, forth, fifth and however many other chances he can. He sacrifices the innocent to save the guilty."

She turned to smirk up at Igor Kakaroff.

"Igor here served what…two years in Azkaban for his crimes and lost almost all of his worldly possessions? He was repentant. He regretted his mistakes and has been working ever since to make up for them. Ultimately, in my timeline, he paid with his life but he never returned to that lunatic monster."

She huffed out a breath and shook her head.

"Dumbledore is of the mistaken belief that if he gives them all a chance, they too will follow Igor's path back to the Light and to personal redemption. The sad truth is, almost none of them are as strong as Igor is and only pretend to change simply to avoid punishment. Dumbledore is blinded by his own good intentions and the repentance of two Death Eaters; Kakaroff and Snape."

Many searching looks were exchanged among the staff at that. Albus Dumbledore was not the most well liked individual in the halls of Durmstrang, but he was respected. Oddly, it seemed as if this worn and battered witch echoed many of their opinions of the man; he was powerful and knowledgeable, but dangerously naive and optimistic. The man was a scholar or philosopher, not a true warrior or politician.

Finally, Headmaster Reinstadler broke the silence.

"Mrs Weasley…can you, er…tell us why you're here? I can't honestly believe that you would risk so much just to offer vague warnings of a danger yet to come."

Almost absently, she nodded her head even as she tucked away her wand and opened up a bag that was hanging over her shoulder and began to rummage inside it.

"What I want is for you all to find Harry Potter and rescue him from his relatives and train him for what is to come."

Professor Duskalova gasped faintly.

"The Boy Who Lived?"

Hermione nodded and pulled a handful of books out of her bag.

"Yes. Harry. My best friend."

She looked wistful and sad for a moment, turning to gaze out the window as she shuddered out a hitched sigh. Then her eyes turned back to them and they were hard as stone.

"He's the one who sent me back in time. He cast the spell himself, willingly draining his own magical core and sacrificing his life force to hurtle me backwards through time."

Igor gasped softly and then collapsed into his chair; a shocked looked on his face.

"But…but why!"

Hermione's eyes turned towards him and the lines in her face softened slightly in regret.

"Igor…it was…necessary. It was also one of the hardest things we've ever done. Both Harry and I are fighters. We have been ever since we were children. Neither of us were suicidal, but we really had no other choice."

Headmaster Reinstadler gestured to a chair at the table with one hand even as he gestured his staff back into their places with the other.

"Sit Mrs Weasley. Please. Explain it all to us so that we can understand."

She smiled and nodded, sitting down and placing the books on the table in front of her. Everyone else slowly regained their seats and turned to look at her, amazement and fear hidden in their eyes.

"Yes…um, there is so much I need to tell you. So much you all need to know, it's almost overwhelming and I'm not sure where to start."

"Why don't you tell us why you came here. Why us? You explained why you didn't go to Dumbledore, but why us? We're not the Aurors. We're school teachers."

Hermione nodded.

"Okay. I'll start at the ending and then go back to the beginning and tell you how we got there. I suppose I could have gone somewhere else and then had Harry send me backwards in time, but there were very few places we could have gone that would take us in and it would have been dangerous to travel to any of them. We couldn't risk it. You see, the spell only allowed me to travel through time, not space. I started in this room even as I landed here. Only the date was different."

She looked around the room again, her eyes sad and wistful.

"It's so much nicer during this time period. The scent of death and decay is nowhere to be found."

Then her eyes focused onto the Headmaster again.

"I started my journey through time here because here is where I lived. Durmstrang was the last standing bastion of Light in all of Europe."

She cackled a laugh that was half crazed with grief even as the staff all exchanged looks again.

"Emperor Voldemort's Dark Army had laid siege to our walls and wards. We were trapped inside Durmstrang fortress, our supply of food nearly gone and disease running rampant inside the walls. Thousands of dark wizards, dark creatures, and abominations waited outside for all of us to die of starvation so that the wards would finally drop into dormancy and the fortress would be his."

"…dear Merlin…" Gizella Szepesi whispered.

"He needed it, you see, because the muggles had already destroyed so many wizarding encampments. In fact, Hogwarts was one of the first magical fortresses to be destroyed with their bombs, but the muggles never found Durmstrang. Emperor Voldemort wanted to turn it into his palace."

Hermione looked down at the books in front of her and sighed sadly.

"When I left to come back in time, it was a gamble of pure desperation on our part. With me in the past and Harry dead, there was only one person in the fortress left that was strong enough and trained enough to hold the wards."

She looked up, a small smile quirking one side of her lips.

"Harry's lover, Victor Krum was Headmaster of Durmstrang. Once he dies, the wards will drop and go dormant, waiting for someone strong enough to reactivate them. The Emperor is definitely strong enough."

Professor Krum gasped.

"Victor…my grandson?"

Hermione turned her head and nodded, a single tear sliding silently down her wrinkled cheek.

"Yes. He's a wonderful man, and a dear friend."

Then she chuckled and flipped through her stack of books until she picked one up and slid it across the table to the Charms Professor.

"Here. This is a book he wrote on the history of the third rise of Voldemort. It focuses on what happened in Eastern Europe in general and at Durmstrang in particular."

Professor Krum took the book with a trembling hand and opened it up. Inside the front cover was tucked a note addressed specifically to him.

"Victor wanted you to have that book. Hopefully, it will have something in it that will help prevent the events that happened in my timeline, but even if it doesn't, he wanted you to have it."

Hermione's smile softened.

"He loved you Professor. He took the job as Professor here and later as Headmaster to make you proud of him."

"Thank you."

Then Hermione turned to Headmaster Reinstadler and picked up the next book on the stack.

"This one is mine. It details events in Great Britain during Harry's school years and Voldemort's second rise as well as the beginning of his third."

She handed it over to the Headmaster, a fierce look in her eyes.

"Study it. Learn it. Follow the instructions I've laid out for you. It details every one of Voldemort's horcruxes; where they are, how to retrieve them, and how to best destroy them. It also details the Deathly Hallows; where they are, how to retrieve them, and why they need to go to Harry."

At the skeptical looks blossoming around the room and Gavrail Kovachev's cry of, "Why him", Hermione scowled.

"Harry Potter is the last living descendant of the Perevelle family. Only he can unite the Hallows and wield them as the Master of Death. No one else. In another's hands, they act as cursed objects bringing downfall and ruin upon those that would claim them."

She turned back to Reinstadler and pointed to the book in his hands.

"It's all detailed in there. Everything I could think of. Everything I could remember."

Then her eyes turned cold and hard again.

"And remember, it must be Harry who destroys the horcruxes and gathers the Hallows. He didn't survive the killing curse by accident. He's a child of prophecy and destined to be the Master of Death. Only…"

She sighed and turned sad again, her eyes unfocused as she looked into her own memories and the tragedies that lived there.

"…Dumbledore was the one who originally heard the prophecy, but he misinterpreted it and didn't truly understand just what it all meant. Mostly because he didn't realize that particular prophecy wasn't the only one spoken about Harry and because he was too busy trying to save dark wizards from themselves. He had an ideal of how the wizarding world _should_ be and tried to force the prophecy about Harry into making that dream come true. In many ways, he doomed us all."

Headmaster Reinstadler gaped at her for a moment. It was clear that he wasn't sure how to respond to the flood of information being poured out for him. It was wildly fantastical, and yet heartrendingly terrifying at the same time.

"I…I…I simply don't know what to say. This…this is…"

He broke off, shaking his head faintly in denial.

"It's overwhelming and horrifying and you want to just scream that it couldn't possibly be true?" Hermione asked.

He nodded in silent agreement and she sighed.

"Believe me, I understand. Trying to absorb nearly 70 years of history that hasn't even happened yet is…a lot to ask of anyone. When that history also includes a Child of Prophecy, an insane Dark Lord that keeps getting resurrected from death, horcruxes, and the Deathly Hallows than it's even worse."

Then she picked up two more books. These ones were a bit smaller than the others and had matching covers in deep blue silk with silver edging.

"These two books were written by Luna Scamander nee' Lovegood. The first is a book on soul magic; specifically the magics that Voldemort used to rebirth himself twice. It is, in all honestly, the most vile and twisted magic I've ever seen and it's all documented here. Hide this book. Destroy it if you must, but you will need to understand the basics at least in order to undo what he has wrought."

She sighed and slid the first book over to the Headmaster. Steffen looked down at the book, a look of near horror on his face. Slowly, he reached out and pulled it closer to himself and shuddered. The contents of that book were terrifying to contemplate and this strange witch that traveled through time just handed it over to him. He was amazed and shocked at her audacity and the burden he would now have to bear.

Hermione gazed at him sympathetically for a long moment and then picked up the other book. Her smile was sad and regretful as she waved it in the air.

"This one is about the timetravel magics that brought me here. Luna was the one who crafted the spell and made all this possible."

Hermione's eyes watered up and her smile twisted into an expression of pain and grief. Her bottom lip trembled slightly and her voice hitched.

"This…this was her redemption for it was through her that the Dark Lord returned the third time."

Igor gaped. Then he leaned forward over the table, his hands clenched tightly to the wooden surface as his eyes blazed with emotion.

"She resurrected that madman and you trusted her to create a spell to send you through time?"

Hermione shook her head, a pleading expression making her watery eyes wide as she hastened to explain.

"You don't understand. During his second rise, there was a war. Luna fought on the side of Light. She was my friend and one of Harry's most trusted Lieutenants. But she was captured and held in the Malfoy family dungeons. I myself helped her to escape."

Hermione's breath hitched and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"What no one knew at the time was that she was pregnant. Luna admitted that she had been…violated, but she never saw her attacker. She was silenced and blinded and raped. After the final battle when Harry defeated Voldemort she came to us and said she was going away. That she needed time and space to heal from her ordeal. We told her we loved her and wished her well and sent her on her way."

Hermione barked out a laugh that held only pain and no humor. Her eyes were wild with grief that was tainted with a hint of madness, even as more tears slid down her cheeks.

"We didn't know it at the time, but she left to give birth in another country. She thought she was carrying a Malfoy child and didn't want to raise her rapist's heir, so she birthed him and gave him up for adoption somewhere in Norway. Then she left and went on her way, trying to piece her life together. She eventually married and had children of her own."

"Then what happened? What drove her to write two such books?"

Hermione turned her head to smile sadly at Professor Krum. The older wizard's expression was one of terrible understanding and gentle sympathy. He remembered the Great War against Grindlewald as one of its survivors. He knew the type of pain that Hermione described for he had seen it over and over again in his youth.

"The child…it wasn't a Malfoy although she didn't know it. It was Voldemort's heir and he somehow came back and possessed his own son and so began the third rise."

Professor Krum gasped and Madam Bitschi murmured, "Oh…that poor girl."

Hermione looked over at her. She was elderly and was wearing the symbol of a medi-witch pinned on her collar. Hermione nodded sadly.

"I don't think Luna ever really recovered once we finally realized the truth. You see, at first we had no clue what was really happening. It started as a bunch of disappearances. Witches, wizards, goblins, muggles and all manor of creatures magical and mundane. They just…disappeared."

"Harry's wife Ginny was one of the first to disappear. She left the house to go to a shop and never returned. She was just…gone."

Professor Krum's expression shifted into a frown of confusion even as he tilted his head to the side.

"Wait. I thought you said that Harry was Victor's lover? How could he have a wife?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"They didn't become lovers until after…" she grimaced and changed what she had been about to say, "…they were both widowers by then. It was more like longtime friends turning to each other for comfort than a passionate love affair. Harry and Victor were good for each other and together they orchestrated most of the Light's victories and rescues…but it was already too late by then."

Professor Danaiellis frowned thoughtfully even as her fingers smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle on her robes.

"What do you mean, it was too late?"

Hermione barked out another laugh that was chilling to hear as it held echoes of madness and despair in it.

"Those disappearances? Voldemort was behind them all. Several hundred wizards, witches and muggles all turned into inferi. No one had a clue that he had returned until the day he lead an army of undead and marched to Hogwarts killing everyone in his path. We were barely able to get the children out of there before they were all killed. As it was, we still lost nearly half of the student population."

The staff paled and the Headmaster clutched the books in his hands until his knuckles turned white. Hermione didn't seem to notice, her unfocused eyes looking into a past that hadn't happened yet.

"He only then announced his return and let everyone know who he was. A week later, he murdered the entire muggle royal family of Great Britain and claimed the credit in the name of magical blood purity."

Her eyes turned hard and she glared around the room. It was suddenly evident that this witch was a warrior; a vicious and deadly fighter.

"The muggles declared war on all magic users at that point. It was a slaughter. Muggle repelling wards might hide magical enclaves from muggle eyes and minds, but they don't hide them from muggle technology. Thousands died in the first month. We tried to tell them that it wasn't every magical that hated muggles, that it was only a small percentage of the population, but they were incensed. The Royal House of Windsor had ruled Great Britain for so long and they were murdered to the last child. It was deemed an act of war by a man claiming to be the rightful ruler of all wizarding Britain and the muggles treated it as such."

Professor Vladimir Vasilov scoffed. He was a slim man with dark hair and bright blue eyes. To Hermione, he looked so young and healthy, untouched by madness or war.

"Yes but, forgive me, they were only muggles. What could they do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned. It was nostalgic in a way. It had been so long since any wizard or witch needed to ask just what a muggle could do. In her timeline, that answer was all too apparent.

"Purebloods!"

Then she smirked wickedly and narrowed her eyes. Time to shake up some thick pureblood minds and open their eyes.

"You mean besides destroy the British Ministry of Magic, kill thousands of magicals and then finally blow up Hogwarts itself?"

"What! How?"

Hermione shook her head and grew serious once again. This was no time for joking, and really, it wasn't funny at all. She was just so used to the gallows humor of Harry and Victor that was more of an effort not to finally go stark raving mad from the pain of it all than any real sort of cheer.

"Technology. I don't know if they could do now at this point in time what they did then. In the future, I mean. But they had technology that could detect strong magic signals such as wards and strong concentrations of magic use. They sent bombs to those locations. When Voldemort killed the muggle royal family, he essentially signed the death sentence on magical Britain."

"We all fled the island, light and dark alike. Some countries followed England's example and chased the magic users out of their lands. Others opened up their borders to refugees. It was chaos as people fled from one country to another. Whole magical villages were destroyed and others became flooded with people in dire straights. And the whole time, Voldemort built up his army and recruited followers from all over the world. People terrified of the muggles, people wanting to fight back and reclaim their homes. It didn't matter to them that he was the one that started it all, only that he promised to finish it."

Hermione stilled and looked down at the table for a long moment as everyone tried desperately to absorb her words. Finally, she looked up and ran a hand over her face to wipe away her tears.

"When I said that Durmstrang was the last bastion of Light, I meant it literally. Even if Harry had somehow fought his way through the army at our wards and killed them all, we would have died. I doubt there were enough magic users left in all of Europe to birth a new generation. Between the muggles hunting all magic users and the Dark hunting down the Light, we were doomed."

They were aghast.

The Headmaster wavered between horror at what he was hearing and a sort of fierce pride that even against such a vast enemy, Durmstrang hadn't fallen. It's one thing to suspect you held the wards of the strongest magical fortress in the world and another to have proof.

Professor Krum's eyes were tragic and it was easy to see that he was thinking of his young grandson not yet fitted for a wand and trying to picture him as the last Headmaster of Durmstrang, alone to face off against an insane Dark Lord.

"But…but why? Why would he do such a thing? Why start such a war and then wipe out everyone?"

Hermione snorted. It was a graceless sound.

"Because Voldemort doesn't care about the magical world. He says he's all about pureblood culture, but that's a lie he uses to trick people into following him. He only truly cares about power. He wants to rule the world; he doesn't care if those left as his slaves are muggle, magical or creatures as long as it's him they worship as their living god."

Headmaster Reinstadler sucked in a breath.

"He's a madman."

Hermione nodded solemnly.

"Yes."

Then Hermione grimaced and reached up to press her hand to her chest over her heart and blinked her eyes rapidly.

"Are you well?"

She offered a smile to Madam Bitschi, but it wasn't very reassuring.

"I think…that I need to move this along a bit faster than I'd originally thought. The timetravel spell is catching up to me."

Then she sighed and pushed the last book over to Professor Krum.

"That's Harry's journal. I doubt you'll be able to read it since it's written in parseltongue, but it's absolutely full of magic and spells as well as descriptions of his adventures. Harry wanted it to go to his younger self. It'll tell young Harry about the Potter family, about what it means to be Master of Death, and what the prophecies he was born to fulfill are."

She shook her head slowly, her thoughtful expression tinged with regret.

"I never read it since I'm not a parseltongue, but it is Harry's greatest hope that it will be able to guide his younger self through life. Albus Dumbledore did all he could to arrange Harry's life and send him in a certain direction. Unfortunately, it was the absolute wrong direction and led to the downfall of the Wizarding World. Harry was born to be a warrior, not a martyr and that will help him on his way."

Professor Krum opened the book and looked down at what appeared to be runes formed from twisting turning squiggles. They almost seemed to move on their own and he was certain that he heard the soft hissing of snakes in the background, but he couldn't read it.

Sighing, he closed the book and looked up at the witch with the tired eyes.

"Just to be certain I understand exactly what it is you want…"

He trailed off and Hermione looked up at him, her eyebrow cocked in anticipation.

"You wish us to somehow have Mr. Potter attend school here in Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts and…guide him on his quest with the information in these books?"

Hermione beamed a smile at Gunter and nodded, her face lighting up.

"Yes! Only, I would prefer it if you could get his guardianship away from his muggle aunt and signed over to a wizarding family outside of England as well. The abuse and neglect he suffered there affected his physical health, his magical strength, and also his personality. Dumbledore selected them with the idea of raising Harry to be a martyr and they will…ruin him if given the chance."

Vasilov, who had scoffed at the idea of muggles being dangerous moments ago, gaped at her in shock for a moment.

"You want us to somehow gain guardianship of him? He's the Boy-Who-Lived! No one in Britain will allow him to leave, especially Dumbledore!"

Hermione sighed and shrugged helplessly. He was correct, after all.

"I'm not sure what to advise for that end of things. Perhaps going through his muggle aunt would be best. She could legally sign over guardianship. And to be truthful, as long as she thought she could get away with it, she would do so in a heartbeat. She despises magic and Harry as a result of him being a wizard. She never wanted him in her home."

She reached up and pressed her hand against her chest again, going slightly pale and tilted her head down. She breathed deeply and slowly for a moment before the color started to return to her face. The medi-witch was watching her carefully, her wand in hand. Hermione looked up and waved Madam Bitschi off.

"It's not going to be easy, although sneaky is probably best. I'd suggest sending squibs or muggles though. He's got wards on his house that alerts Dumbledore if a witch or wizard show up."

She grimaced and shrugged apologetically at Professor Krum at that bit of information.

"However, I think it's important. As I said, they were chosen by Dumbledore because their irrational hatred of magic encouraged them to abuse and neglect Harry. Dumbledore wanted Harry's spirit battered to the point of nearly being broken. He wanted a martyr, someone prepared to die for Dumbledore's idea of what the world should be.

Unfortunately, that's in direct opposition to the prophecy stating that as Master of Death, Harry would unite the wizarding populace; both Light and Dark. That requires a leader, a warrior, a politician, and someone with a lot of knowledge of when and how to use the power he welds."

Sighing, Hermione reached down into her bag again and rummaged around. She pulled out a small wooden crate about the size of a matchbox. Then she pulled out two more and set them on the table in front of her. Then she did that with two more and lined up the five small wooden crates in front of her.

Finally, she looked up from her task directly at Professor Krum. Her eyes were haunted and she seemed so much older than she had earlier, as if the weight of her thoughts were visible on her flesh.

"Harry…my Harry, had none of that. His power was stunted. He learned to fight, but not how to lead. He became of mixture of Light and Dark by necessity and circumstance against his will. He feared and hated the Dark as Dumbledore taught him to and so he ignored and feared half of his strength. When he had no choice but to use it, he was wracked with guilt and self hate.

Intellectually, emotionally, academically, and ultimately, philosophically; Harry was not up to the tasks he was meant to perform. He wasn't raised and trained to do them. He was raised to die a glorious death saving others. That didn't happen though, and he was lost from that point on. Desperately trying to do that which he had no clue how to do."

There was a long moment of silence as everyone tried to take in her words. There was no doubting the passionate belief and plea in her voice, but the content…the message, that was a very difficult and bitter pill to swallow. No one wanted to believe that the fate of the world rested on the shoulders of one small baby, and yet…he did survive the killing curse.

He if could do the impossible as a mere babe still nursing at his mother's breast, what could he do with proper training and full use of his magic and power?

Finally, Headmaster Reinstadler broke the silence and held up the book that Hermione had indicated that she had wrote.

"And this contains all we need to know about how to train The-Boy-Who-Lived and to prevent the return of the Dark Lord?"

Offering up a wane and wobbly smile, Hermione nodded.

"Yes. I've tried to organize it all in some meaningful way. There are sections about the horcruxes that detail all the information about finding and destroying them. There's a section about the Deathly Hallows. There are also sections about all the prophecies that Harry's under and what they might mean. I've also included a brief history of people that might help or hinder you based on what they did in my timeline."

Uncertainty crept across her face and she trembled slightly.

"I just hope it's enough."

Then she gestured to the small wooden crates lined up before her.

"These should help. Hopefully, they'll add detail or proof to help you believe."

Then she pulled out her wand and tapped the first crate. It swelled up, enlarging back into its true size, pushing the other crates out of the way.

Hermione's face paled and she swayed in her chair.

"Whoa! That took a lot out of me. Time is running short."

Finally unable to stand and watch someone suffer any longer, Madam Bitschi stood up from her chair and walked across the room with her wand drawn. She flicked it at Hermione to run a medical scan, ignoring her gestures to stop.

Hermione glowed a sickly green yellow that was very dark around her heart. The medi-witch gasped and then frowned.

"You are in the beginning stages of cardiac failure. I need to get you to the infirmary right away."

Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"No. I'm dying and nothing you can do will stop it. I knew this would happen before I volunteered for this mission."

Madam Bitschi flicked her wand again and Hermione sighed and relaxed slightly as she began to breathe easier and the pains in her chest lightened a bit.

"I'm afraid I will have to insist. I will take you to the infirmary. You can explain the boxes later."

Hermione frowned and gripped her wand.

"There is no later for me. You are simply wasting what little time I have. I will not go to the infirmary as nothing you can do will save me. Why? Because at this very moment, my magical core is imploding. My magic is draining from me and once it is all gone, I will die. End. Of. Discussion."

Madam Bitschi's gasp was echoed around the room. She raised her wand and cast a complex monitoring charm at Hermione. Above Hermione's head glowing blue runes popped into view. They were shifting, switching from rune equation to rune equation as it constantly recalculated her magical core.

"Great Circe!" Gizelle Szepesi exclaimed when she saw the runes.

Everyone else looked up at them at her reaction. It was painfully obvious to all that the runes were acting as a countdown, visibly showing the lowering power levels as the magic drained out of her.

Hermione huffed and banished the runes with a wave of her wand.

"If you are through, I have to finish here before I die."

Then, ignoring the medi-witch who obviously was just barely restraining herself from dragging Hermione away to the infirmary, she turned to the enlarged crate. Smiling slightly, she pried off the lid and reached inside. She pulled out a carefully sealed and labeled crystal jar. Inside of it was a shimmering and swirling silver liquid.

Hermione handed it over to Headmaster Reinstadler and beamed a proud smile.

"Pensieve memories. Fifty jars full of them in each crate."

She gestured to the one open crate and the four others that were still reduced down in size.

"Two of them are filled with Harry's memories. One of them is all mine. The other two are a mixture of various people's memories that witnessed or participated in important events."

She turned to smile at Professor Krum, her eyes softening into gentle understanding.

"Some are Victor's."

He smiled back at her, conflicted with excitement and trepidation over what he would find when he viewed his grandson's memories of events that would, hopefully, never happen.

Then Hermione turned back and rummaged through her bag again. She pulled out a carved marble bowl and carefully set it on the table.

"This was the hardest thing to get for you."

They all looked at the pensieve. They were terribly rare objects of immense value. It wasn't very fancy or large, but it was obviously powerful. The more sensitive at the table could feel the magic thrumming through the runes carved on its surface.

"I couldn't bring back anything that already exists in this time period. It would cause a paradox to have two identical objects in the timestream."

She turned and smirked at Madam Bitschi.

"That's what's killing me, by the way. I already exist in the here and now. I'm a child in England, still unaware of the magical world."

A few of the teachers gasped as she had just essentially admitted to being a muggleborn. A muggleborn inside of Durmstrang.

Then she turned back to face Headmaster Reinstadler and gestured to the pensieve.

"This is the work of two witches and one wizard; Padma Kinnear nee' Patil, Gabrielle Rousseau nee' Delacour, and Julien Beauvais. When they learned we needed a pensieve that did not exist in the past, the three of them worked tirelessly to create one."

Hermione snorted, a bit of humor touching her eyes for the first time.

"I can't tell you the number of times they accidentally blew up their lab. However, in the end, they didn't fail us or you. It's a fully functioning solicitor's pensieve. It can allow one to enter the memory or show it in presentation format to an audience."

Headmaster Reinstadler held up the crystal jar and peered at the silvery memory and then turned it to see the label carefully written out.

"Harry Potter, 1992, 2nd Year Hogwarts, Chamber of Secrets, Destruction of the Diary Horcurx and the Basilisk."

Then he turned and blinked at her.

"Is this…label correct?"

His voice was strained with shock. The idea of a twelve year old child facing off against a basilisk and a horcrux made him want to vomit.

Hermione gazed at him solemnly and then nodded.

"Yes. Lucius Malfoy had the horcrux and then gave it to an eleven year old girl. It possessed her and used her body to open Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets and awaken a thousand year old basilisk that had been under magical hibernation. It used the basilisk to attack the student populace. Then the horcrux began to drain Ginny's lifeforce to revive its maker."

"Dear Merlin…"

However, it was Professor Gunter Krum that recognized the name.

"Ginny? Is that the witch that Harry married?"

She turned her head and nodded.

"Yes. She was. Harry saved her."

He nodded.

Then Headmaster Reinstadler cleared his throat and held up the jar.

"Can we watch this?"

Hermione nodded and held out her hand for the jar. He carefully gave it to her and watched as she cracked the seal and poured the silvery memory into the pensieve.

"Now remember, unless a memory is in the pensieve, you must keep it stored in a crystal jar with an airtight wax seal or it will evaporate away."

Several of the professors nodded in acknowledgement of the warning. Then she pointed out a series of four runes to the Headmaster.

"You must tap your wand against these in order to activate the presentation mode. Once the memory is finished playing out, it will automatically stop. If you want to pause it in mid-play, you tap this rune here. Tapping it again will resume play of the memory."

Then, she gently tapped her wand against the four runes and the pensieve began to play. The memory rose up in a silvery mist and the scene formed in perfect three dimensions out of that mist to show a small boy with round glasses and wearing dirty torn robes standing before an immense iron door locked with magical metal serpents.

They watched as the boy hissed in parseltongue at the doors and they opened. Some gasped at this proof that The-Boy-Who-Lived was a parseltongue, others gaped in awe of the legendary chamber beyond the doors.

They watched, horrified as they witnessed Harry confront the glowing specter of the Dark Lord as a young student and goggled at learning his true identity. It was clear to all that the boy didn't understand the danger he was in or what it was he faced. A few cringed as he ignored the ghostly horcrux in favor of checking on the young witch dying on the ground before him.

Then they were stunned at the size of the beastly basilisk that arrived and the appearance of a phoenix and the legendary Hogwarts Sorting Hat. When Harry pulled Gryffindor's magical sword from the hat, jaws dropped around the room.

To call what happened next a battle was a fallacy. It was painfully obvious the boy was untrained in magics or swordplay. He was woefully outmatched. It was only pure dumb luck that he managed to kill the basilisk at all.

The thing that stood out the most to the majority of them was that the basilisk venom didn't kill him. Even with pure phoenix tears cried directly into the wound, he should have died. In fact, he should have been dead long before the phoenix arrived at his side to cry those tears.

Once again, The-Boy-Who-Lived survived the unsurvivable.

The memory then ended with Harry stabbing the horcrux with the basilisk fang that had just pierced his flesh and destroying it. Even as the young Dark Lord's shrieks of pain faded away as his specter dissolved into nothingness, the mists that formed the memory slid back down into the pensieve.

"I…I…"

Headmaster Reinstadler seemed at a loss.

Hermione nodded even as she seemed to smile at him in understanding sympathy.

"It's amazing to watch, I know. He should have died then. Yet…he's Harry Potter and the impossible often happened around him. Ancient magical artifacts thought to be mere legends appear, mystical firebirds rush to his aid, and even the venom of ancient and deadly basilisks can't kill him. And at that point in time he was working with only a mere fraction of his true power."

"How…" Igor's eyes were wide with shock as he turned to her.

Hermione shrugged and waved a hand through the air vaguely.

"He's Harry Potter. It's as complex and as simple as that. He's a Prophecy Child. His destiny was not just to defeat Voldemort, although that is part of it and his first task. His destiny was to unite the Wizarding World. Light and Dark. Muggleborn and Pureblood. All the various Ministries and Governments…"

Professor Krum's eyes lit up in the beginning of understanding.

"Instead of Emperor Voldemort it was supposed to be Emperor Potter."

Hermione turned to face him, her eyes both wise and haunted.

"Yes."

Headmaster Reinstadler nodded slowly even though a look of confusion washed across his face. "But why? Why would he…or anyone really, be prophesied to unite and then rule all of the Wizarding World?"

Hermione sighed and slumped back into her chair, her hand reaching up to press against her chest even as a gray tinge began to form along her cheeks.

"We believe Harry's immense magical strength and his destiny was brought about, not in response to Voldemort despite him being an obstacle, but in response to the growing and changing Muggle World. That was Dumbledore's greatest mistake. He saw Voldemort as the ultimate danger to the Wizarding World and focused everything he had on maintaining the status quo while holding that madman at bay. The truth is, Voldemort could have been put down for good by the time Harry and I graduated Hogwarts without half the danger and pain we suffered if only Harry had been properly raised and trained.

Instead of teaching him to be a leader and warrior, a politician and thinker, Harry was raised to be a symbol; a martyr. Because of that, he never even tried to head in the direction he was meant to. By the time he learned of the prophecies that said he would unite the world and save it, it was far too late. The prophecies warped and shifted to the reborn Voldemort. He would rule the world and then destroy it."

Professor Vladimir Vasilov shook his head in a clear effort to understand just what it was Hermione Weasley was trying to explain. Everything she said or inferred was going directly against long held beliefs he had been taught since his childhood.

"Okay. I understand that a prophecy will warp and twist when the one who was meant to fulfill it cannot for some reason. It's been documented in the past and warned about in a variety of tomes and studies. What I don't understand is why a prophecy would be made of someone who would unite and save the Wizarding World from muggles."

The word muggle was said with a mix of scorn and confusion.

Hermione shook her head at him sadly.

"That's because you know nothing of muggles or their culture. Most purebloods don't and I've found that the ones who speak the loudest about how backward and useless they are at the ones who understand them the least.

Muggles outnumber us nearly 10,000 to 1 and with their technology they can equal or better us in most things. Only in a few areas is magic still better or faster than muggle technology and that area is shrinking constantly."

Most of the faces around her reflected skepticism or smug arrogance in their firm belief in wizarding superiority. She sighed.

"Look, even without all of the books and memories I've brought you, if I can convince you of the dangers the muggles represent, I'll consider my imminent death worthwhile. Point of fact, I'm dying. I have no reason whatsoever to lie or sugar-coat the truth. I don't have the time to do so, for one and nothing you can do to punish me for my sophistry would effect me for another.

The plain unspoken truth of our world is that right now, the ONLY thing keeping us from being wiped out by the muggles is their ignorance of us. Only the highest members of the muggle governments are aware we exist and they are kept almost totally ignorant of what we can do and how we live. Why? Because if those leaders learned about how our society operates they'd either kill us to the last being or invade us to take over in an attempt to save us from ourselves. And if the population of regular muggles learned of us, it wouldn't matter what the governments wanted, we'd be overrun in months as mobs formed."

"Muggle repelling wards will keep them out." Professor Vasilov insisted, even though his voice didn't carry the conviction it had even moments earlier.

Hermione snorted in dark amusement. Her eyes gleamed with a hint of madness.

"Wrong! Muggle repelling wards effect the mind and the eyes of muggles. It does nothing to their technology. It took the muggles two weeks after the Royal Family was murdered to develop a way to use technology to detect magic. Two short weeks. Then they dropped bombs on us. Bombs we never found a way to ward against. No shield could stop them."

Vasilov opened his mouth to argue more, but Gunter Krum silenced him with a gentle touch to his arm.

"Vladimir…you are young and uneducated about the true strength of the muggles. But I…I remember. The war with Grindlewald was fierce yes, but many forget that the muggles played their part in that war. Their armies were vast and they had machines of war that terrorized the skies, the oceans, the fields, and the towns. Muggles do not match us in many ways, but in dealing out death to the masses they truly are our superiors."

Igor Karakoff sneered, but didn't naysay Gunter's words and Hermione nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, "Their primary weapon, that which even the merest muggle soldiers carried, smashed through all but the strongest shields, killing the witch or wizard that cast them. They had weapons called FAE's or Fire-Air Explosives that literally turned the air to fire and sent shockwaves of explosive energy through the surrounding area. Between the bombs, the FAE's and the soldiers with their guns and bullets, we lost most of the British Wizarding World in less than a month."

She shook her head, and went on, ignoring the growing pain in her chest.

"According to the prophecy that Dumbledore never knew about and as such invalidated with his actions; all of that could have been avoided. Harry could have untied us and we would have prevailed against the muggles. Instead, Harry wasn't prepared for his role and thus the prophecy warped. It is the firm belief of most people from my future timeline that with Harry unable to fulfill his destiny, Magic herself gave up on the Wizarding World and facilitated Voldemort's rebirth so that he could hasten the end of our world."

She gasped and turned a bit grayer about the face and grimaced in pain. Madam Bitschi stood again and waved her wand at Hermione in a precise manner to measure Hermione's magical core. The runes appeared over her head again and were still in countdown, but it was shocking to see how little magic she had left. Hermione ignored it and the medi-witch.

"We were a society divided even before Voldemort returned. Purebloods against halfbloods and muggleborns. Magical humans against the muggles and the other magical races. Rich against poor. Light against dark. When the muggles attacked, we wouldn't work together against them even if we knew how; which we didn't. And so, we were doomed.

On the day that I came back in time, Durmstrang was the last bastion of Light wizards and witches in all of Europe. There were rumors of a hidden enclave in Southeast Asia and of several in the Americas, but that was all. But wizards and witches weren't the only magical beings that the muggles went for.

When I left, the centaurs, merfolk, and dragons had all been rounded up and fitted with magic repressing collars. The survivors of the various herds ended up living out their lives caged in muggle zoos so that the muggles could come gawk at them in amazement.

The goblins had been enslaved and sent to work in various mines, factories and other hard labor jobs. The house-elves…"

Hermione trailed off with a gasp that was half remembered horror and half agony.

"The house-elves were slaughtered to the last. They were the only magical beings that sided with the wizards and as such they were put down like rabid animals. The other magical beings didn't lift a hand to help us at first because they had spent centuries being oppressed and treated horrifically by wizards and felt we were simply getting what was coming to us. It wasn't until the muggles turned on them too that they realized the danger they were in, but by then it was far too late.

And while this was happening, Voldemort was doing half of the work for them while keeping the muggles incensed with hatred for all things magical. He slaughtered wizards, witches, goblins and muggles with little thought to who or what his victims were. Everyone was either his marked servant or worthy of death in his eyes."

Tears pooled in Hermione's eyes. Igor's expression was one of remembered horror as he remembered his own painful past. Vasilov and Sarapov shared a silent look of determination and silent promise. This tale of horror would not come to pass if they had anything to say about it.

With a hitched breath, Hermione continued.

"Every time we came close to negotiating a peace treaty with the muggles, he'd go off and do something horrific to keep the muggles fighting us. I think he found it amusing."

Then Hermione seemed to crumple and her grey skin turned chalky white. Everyone was witness to the runes counting down her death and she was close…so close to the end. Slumping against the table for support, she reached out a hand and grasped onto Headmaster Steffen Reinstadler.

"Harry is the key. He can prevent this from happening. He's the one with the power to defeat Voldemort, unite us, and lead us into the future safely so that we can thrive and prosper as a people. But he can't do it alone. He needs to be saved from his relatives, hidden from Albus Dumbledore, and raised to fulfill his destiny.

Do what I ask. Please! If you raise him right…he'll become the Master of Death. He'll have the power to take life or give it. He'll be the one to herald a new age of magic."

Her eyes were showing panic now.

Headmaster Reinstadler looked at her solemnly for a long moment, then he nodded his head.

"I promise."

Hermione Weasley nee' Granger relaxed all the tension from her body and she smiled at him, her eyes softening in relief and joy.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

And then, with one last sigh, she died.

* * *

Durmstrang Staff (in order of appearance)

Headmaster Steffen Reinstadler (M)

Professor of Dark Arts Igor Kakaroff (M)

Professor of Herbology Tsvetanka Duskalova (F)

Professor of Potions Gavrail Kovachev (M)

Professor of Arithmancy Sergei Sarapov (M)

Professor of History Thalia Danaiellis (F)

Professor of Charms Gunter Ulrich Krum (M)

Professor of Runes Gizella Szepesi (F)

Medi-Witch Madam Bianka Bitschi (F)

Professor of Transfiguration Vladimir Vasilov (M)

Professor of Astronomy Serafina Gorka (F)

Professor of Magical Creatures Pantelis Papadopoulos (M)


End file.
